


don't hear; feel

by cyclothimic



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 118,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclothimic/pseuds/cyclothimic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn Fabray, the family screw-up, used to be the family pride. however, the death of someone close drove her over the edge and she stopped being the family pride. for five years, she'd ignored her past and went on with life. until her sister's new piano tutor, Rachel Berry came along and gave her clarity...and maybe more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Quinn sat at her desk, face half buried in her hand. An essay on what she loved the most and why. It was both an easy and difficult topic for her to embark on. At this moment, it was English she loved the most, but somewhere deep down inside, she knew better. Inside, something was roaring at her, screaming that she loved  _something else_  much more. She closed her eyes and buried the roar.

There was a quiet knock at her bedroom door, announcing her sister Frannie, as she opened the door and walked in. Frannie was the perfect girl. Well, she was the perfect girl after what Quinn had done five years ago. Her father had still not forgiven her for it. From that day forward, her parents poured their hopes onto her older sister. She had always wondered why they had expected so much from her, but not from her sister.

Was it because they loved Frannie too much to put her under that pressure? Or was it because they loved Quinn so much they wanted her to achieve greatness? She never was completely sure and she never dared to ask.

Quinn swiveled her chair around to face Frannie who had taken the liberty to sit on her bed without her permission. Not that Quinn would forbid her anyway. Frannie had always told her that she liked Quinn's room more than her own.

"It's more…alive," Frannie had told her.

Frannie forced a smile and Quinn could immediately see that it wasn't genuine. "What's up?" she asked.

"Mr. Ryerson died this afternoon."

Quinn frowned at the sudden news. "What happened?"

"They said it was a heart attack. His house maid gave him mouth-to-mouth." Quinn grimaced. She had learned mouth-to-mouth when she trained with the Red Cross. Not a pretty experience. Frannie smiled wider at the grimace. "The EMTs said it was a lost cause."

Quinn glanced at the clock on her bedside table and looked back at her sister. They waited a long moment for the call.

"Girls! Dinner!"

* * *

"He wasn't even that old."

 _Wasn't._ That was the thing about Russell Fabray. He reacted to friends and relatives' deaths like they happened daily. He was the same five years ago. Quinn was kidding herself if she thought that it would have changed by now _._

"She was ancient," Quinn commented. She sat at the dining table, next to her grandfather and across from her sister. Russell was sitting at the head of the table. Judy slapped the steak on top of the cutting board at the counter. Their housekeeper, Mercedes, was off today.

"Quinn's right. He was at the age when he could go at any second," Fred, her grandfather, cut in. Quinn flashed him a thankful smile. He winked back at her.

Fred took a sip of his wine while Judy whacked the steak with a mallet and Quinn felt the in and out of her own breath. Ever since the news, Quinn had been more aware of her lungs and heart and everything that kept her body going.

"Well, it's too soon," Russell said. Quinn resisted wincing at her father's insensitivity. He unlocked his phone and checked his calendar. He looked back up at his younger daughter and waved the phone around, as though she could see the calendar displayed on the tiny screen from where she sat. "Two months. He had to die two months before the showcase!"

The winter showcase at the symphony hall. Her sister's last performance before she went to college.

"Frannie will be ready. She's always been ready, Dad," Quinn said

"Of course she's ready now, but she won't be ready two months from now without no one on her. How do you think I'm gonna find someone at this time of the year? With winter break and everything," her father ranted.

Quinn fingered the napkin in front of her and listened to the steak sizzling in the pan at the stove. She hung on for approximately two seconds before the faintest of smiles appeared on her lips. It was also a joke for her to expect her mother to come to Frannie's defense. Fred nudged her discreetly with his elbow. He knew what she was up to, he always did.

"Russell, it's a showcase." Fred took another sip. "Not a competition. Frannie will do fine."

Fred must have forgotten that the word "fine" did not exist in their family vocabulary. If you were a Fabray and you were supposed to be an expert in something, you better do it way better than  _fine_. Fine was synonymous with mediocre. Of course, Fred wouldn't remember that because he wasn't actually a Fabray. He was her mother's father, after all.

"Even if it's  _just_  a showcase," Russell mocked with a pointed look at her grandfather, "Frannie needs to pull off her best performance since it's her last one. God knows who else would be able to go up on stage and perform again." That last sentence was meant for Quinn. Quinn knew it. She chose not to say a word. "I'll start looking tomorrow. There has to be someone."

Quinn sighed and couldn't believe she was going to say what she was going to say. "Maybe Frannie needs a break. Some people do, you know. They take breaks. I've heard that she's been doing well so far."

Not that she'd know. She hadn't heard someone play in five years.

Russell shot her a look and pursed his lips. "Quinn, I'm sorry, but you're not actually the first person I'd turn to for advice on this matter."

Oh great, check it out; yet another indirectly negative message meant just for her. Was it remind-Quinn-of-her-failure day? She didn't remember receiving that memo, or she would have prepared herself. She should have learned to just shut up by now.

"Russell…" Quinn waited for her mother to continue; perhaps even mount a minor defense in her honor. But it was just that. Nothing more. Of course.

"Do you want me to set the table, Mom?" Frannie asked, already standing up. Quinn knew she was just trying to diffuse the tension.

Quinn sighed and pushed herself to stand. She didn't want to sit there and let her father send her messages any longer. "I'll help," she muttered.

They laid out everything on the table religiously. Spoons. Forks. Knives. Wineglasses for the adults. Normal glasses for the children. Plates. No dessert dinnerware at all. Generally, Quinn wouldn't have minded. It was a routine her father had set long ago and it was her job to follow it. It would be nice though, if occasionally, her family could be one of those  _order-in-pizza-day_  families because the children deserved it or the mother was too lazy to cook. But no, nope. Steaks for everyone.

Quinn helped her mother lay some of the food on the table in a neat row, and then stood behind to her sister as she waited for her mother. She laid her chin on Frannie's shoulder and smiled when she smiled.

"Funny. I'm taller than you," she croaked. "And you're 18."

Frannie laughed soundlessly. Quinn always wondered how she did that. "You're too good, Quinn," Frannie said quietly.

Quinn kissed her sister's cheek in gratitude. "Are you sad that Mr. Ryerson died?"

Frannie shrugged the shoulder opposite the one Quinn was resting on. "I don't know," she whispered. "Are you?"

Quinn didn't know Mr. Ryerson that well. Every time he came to their house, he would go straight to the piano room. A room that Quinn never went near. "Kinda reminds me of Grammy," Quinn whispered, lowering her head so her eyes would be covered by Frannie's shoulder.

That was enough to end their little conversation. Suddenly, Judy was calling out to help lay out the rest of the food and sit at the table. Quinn watched Frannie very properly put the napkin on her lap and make sure her elbows were off the table. She was always so well mannered. So proper. So Fabray. All her life, Quinn had never known Frannie to go through the rebellious phase most teens went through. Quinn had hers five years ago. Frannie was always just the good girl. The golden one.

Every day, Quinn would wish that Frannie would just be a normal teenager. Her teenage years were coming to an end. She deserved to at least be allowed to make inappropriate jokes, or hang out with friends, or just laugh for ridiculous reasons at least once in her life.

In their house, childhood, like grief, was an episode merely tolerated. It was viewed as an inconvenience and an obstacle to the real work of life: proving to the world and to yourself that you weren't just an organism made of particles taking up unnecessary space.

So Frannie was stuck here. In this house. With that piano and an overbearing father breathing down her neck. Quinn remembered when she was the one who was stuck. She wasn't sure she would ever want that again, and she certainly never thought that it would now be Frannie's turn

The arrangement was odd, and felt a bit backwards to her. It was supposed to the older sibling messing up and then the younger one would bear the pressure of not making the same mistakes. But her father was rigid; her mother was a Stepford wife. Her grandfather couldn't do anything. Her grandmother died.

She flapped her napkin out dramatically, just to make her sister smile.

Maybe it was a good thing she was such a perfect kid. It left her free to screw things up for both of them.

And lord knows how much she'd messed up.

* * *

Frannie never came into her room early in the morning. Today she did. Which meant she overslept again. Quinn leaped out of bed and took a  _really_ quick shower. Her sister was on her bed waiting as she came out and walked into the closet.

"What kind of day is it today?" she called from the closet as she stared at her clothes.

Frannie hummed. "Go with grey. Take an umbrella on your way out."

Quinn hummed in return and pulled on a grey blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned, matched with a pair of pale blue skinny jeans. She ran out of the closet, shoved everything on her desk into her backpack, kissed Frannie hurriedly on the cheek and rushed downstairs.

She went into the kitchen and saw a salad plate with a BLT sitting on the counter. Her housekeeper clicked her tongue at her and tapped the counter repeatedly. She grinned gratefully at her. The bread hung off her teeth as she gave Mercedes a thumb's up and then rushed out to the front door where her father was waiting for her.

"I'm not even going to say it," Russell said, his voice thick with annoyance as he opened the door, throwing Quinn her set of keys.

"You could've just gone yourself. I don't mind driving out alone," Quinn said.

"I like going out with you together," he answered.

It was sort of heartwarming to Quinn that he still waited to leave with her, just to keep up with this tradition. When she had first gotten her driving license, she asked him if they could drive out together so he could watch over her until they went their separate ways. He had agreed, and they continued as the years passed.

"I don't wanna make you late for work!" Quinn exclaimed. Her car beeped when she pressed the button on the key fob.

Russell gave her a look over the top of his car and then shook his head. "Just drive, Quinn."

Quinn stayed behind him as they headed out to the streets. When they were about to turn to their respective directions, Russell raised up a hand so she could see it from behind. She raised her own – he always said he could see it but she wasn't too sure – and then she turned right after he drove straight ahead.

She didn't care that she was already two minutes late. She couldn't function without caffeine in her system. She pulled up outside of Lima Bean and came out three minutes later sipping from a Venti Americano, and then she broke just about every traffic law, making it to her school in five minutes.

She skipped out and almost forgot to lock her car before running in. The hallways were empty and she groaned in frustration. Her running steps echoed in the hallways as she ran to her first class of the day which she was already ten minutes late to, English. Hopefully, Miss Avery would understand. Quinn was the teacher's pet after all.

There had been a random Tuesday, and Miss Avery had been droning on about some obscure Dylan Thomas poem that no one comprehended. Quinn had made a comment that she couldn't remember now if she had tried, but it seemed to make Miss Avery happy. At the end of the class, Miss Avery gifted her a personal copy of the Thomas book.

"In thanks for saving this hour from total pointlessness," she'd said.

She started hanging around her room whenever she didn't feel like having lunch or when she had a free period. They would sometimes talk about poems, books, or anything else that was on their minds. Other times, they would just sit in their own corners and doing their own things.

They were friends.

She opened the door as slowly as she could; wishing so hard that the damn door would do her a favor and  _not_  creak this time.

 _Please, please, please, please,_ she mouthed and managed to slip through the space she had made. She grinned triumphantly and gave the door quiet thanks. Luckily for her, Miss Avery had her back to Quinn, allowing her to successfully slip into her seat without making so much of a noise.

"Miss Fabray," Miss Avery said with her back to her. Quinn's eyes widened. Shit. "Nice of you to finally make an appearance. Should I feel honored?"

The rest of the class snickered at her. Quinn sighed and shrugged. "Maybe."

Miss Avery turned around then and strode towards Quinn, stopping abruptly in front of her desk. "Maybe?" she asked, both eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Miss Avery was very young for a teacher. Quinn wasn't exactly sure how old, but figured it couldn't be much more than twenty-seven. Quinn had come to the realization that English was her current favorite class because she had a crush on Miss Avery. It wasn't that big of a surprise because Quinn had experienced similar cases before.

Older. But not too old. Attractive. Gender didn't matter – which was also one of the reasons she was the family screw up.

The blonde smiled innocently at the teacher. "Well, I overslept because I stayed up late to complete the essay you assigned to us." She pulled the papers from her backpack and handed them to Miss Avery. "There, all done."

Miss Avery flipped through the essay, scanning the words before her eyes returned to Quinn. Quinn did not relent. Miss Avery finally sighed and shook her head, but Quinn's grin grew wider because she could see a hint of smile tugging on the corners of Miss Avery's lips.

"I do hope that you won't repeat this again in the near future, Miss Fabray," Miss Avery quipped as she walked towards her desk at the front of the classroom.

Quinn couldn't help but stare at Miss Avery's curvy bottom. She cleared her throat and nodded. "I'll try my best, Miss Avery."

Damn, her ass was something.

* * *

Miss Avery asked her to stay after the bell rang. When everybody was out of the class, she beckoned Quinn to her big desk at the front. She looked at Quinn with concern.

"Quinn," she addressed Quinn. "Is there a problem at home?"

Quinn blinked and she cleared her throat. "Nothing. I just…my sister's piano tutor passed away last night and it got a bit messy because there's this showcase at the end of next month and…you know," she drifted off with a sigh. "I'm sorry for being late. I'll work on it."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss," Miss Avery then said. "I'm letting you off the hook this time, Quinn. But I really hope there's no next time."

"I'll work on it," Quinn said again.

Miss Avery smiled. "I'll write you a pass for your next class." See, one of the many reasons she liked Miss Avery. She could be quite forgiving. Or maybe it was just for Quinn.

"Thanks."

When Quinn was on her way out, Miss Avery stopped her again. "The piano thing," she began with hesitance, as though she were walking into a minefield. "Didn't you play piano before?"

Quinn was surprised that she didn't faint or do anything drastic at the mention of her past. Her awful, family-image ruining past. She merely smiled with a shrug. "I don't do that anymore.

* * *

Quinn sat at lunch with her regular group of friends, consisting of her best of best friends, Santana Lopez, her girlfriend, Brittany Pierce, and the resident bad boy of the school, Noah Puckerman. They met each other in preschool and had been friends ever since.

Sometimes, Puck's best friend, the quarterback of the school's football team, Finn Hudson would join them. The only reason he would join them was because he was trying to court Quinn. It wasn't working really well in his case. He wasn't stupid, but he wasn't smart either. He was just dim in some departments and Quinn just couldn't get into him. He could be kind of endearing at times and Quinn would sometimes enjoy talking with him.

Today, Finn was already at their table when she arrived. His face lit up like a puppy with a bone. Quinn grinned at him, sitting across from him and next to Santana, who was sharing a bag of Dorito's with Brittany.

Quinn didn't have many friends. She had tons of numbers saved in her phone but most of them were merely acquaintances. Some of them would text her to ask about homework or invite her to parties and that was that. They didn't talk about boys or life or anything special.

This group of people was special to her. She could talk about almost anything with them, except one particular thing. And they knew that they should never bring it up unless she did it herself.

"Mr Ryerson died," was the first thing she said once she sat down. She pinched open the edge of her milk carton and drank from it. They looked at her in curiosity and shock. "Said it was a stroke or something."

"So what's going to happen to Frannie's showcase?" Santana asked.

"My father's looking for a new tutor," Quinn answered. "I believe Frannie's going to make it anyway with or without a tutor. She's amazing already." Quinn looked at Santana to see that she was going to say something but Quinn's raised eyebrow stopped her. "I  _know_  she'll be amazing."

The subject was quickly dropped and they moved on to other subjects. Brittany's cat was sick. Santana's father got a promotion at the hospital. Puck's pool cleaning business was going well. Finn found a job at Breadstix. Quinn hoped he wouldn't say anything stupid to the customers while he was there.

After school, Quinn drove to Lima Bean and picked up an apple pie and coffee. She drove back to school and went to Miss Avery's classroom. She wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't there. She was probably somewhere chaperoning club activities. She put the apple pie and coffee on the desk and scribbled a note.

_Good afternoon. Sorry that I was late today again. I'll bet you this pie that I'm on time tomorrow._

She considered drawing a winky face but took a moment to consider her mediocre drawing skills. With her luck it would probably turn out looking like a face suffering from a heart attack. She instead capped her pen and stuck the note to the pie and left.

Crushing on a teacher. Kind of pathetic.

It was a pretty good day so far.

* * *

Until it wasn't.

Quinn couldn't hear her father's knock. She had her headphones in and the volume was turned up pretty loud. Avicii's  _Wake Me Up_  was blasting in her ears when she saw her phone light up next to her pile of homework. It was her dad.

She didn't bother to answer. She paused the music and unhooked her headphones. She opened the door to see Russell glaring at her with his phone to his ear. She tried to smile at him apologetically but he didn't respond. He just strode in without invitation at all. Rude. And very him.

His tie was loose. His dress shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. It was obvious he didn't have a very good day at work. She told herself to try to not piss him off any more than she had today. He stood akimbo while she slipped back onto her bed.

"What's up?" she asked warily.

"Tell me what's it like to have a stroke."

She blinked at him rapidly and then released a soft laugh. "What?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Yep, she totally inherited it from him. "Dad, I don't know what a heart attack feels like, because if I did, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

He closed his eyes and expelled a harsh breath. "I'm asking you because you took some EMT classes with that friend of yours during summer break. Is it really not possible to save someone from a stroke?"

"I don't know. I just took a few and most of them involved minor cases. But some strokes are…salvageable, I guess." Quinn winced at her wording. But her father was making her nervous. "I don't really know."

"Why didn't anyone call us right away?" his father muttered.

 _Like you called me about grandma?_  Quinn didn't say that out loud but she was still angry at her parents and her grandfather about what happened. She clenched her jaw and shuffled on her bed to keep her temper at bay. She didn't bother answering him because that question wasn't intended for her. It was rhetorical.

A moment passed and Quinn saw something flashed through his eyes. "You can't call Will," she snapped. He looked at her in surprise. "I don't care who you find, but William Schuester is  _untouchable_."

William Schuester – or Will – was her Mr Ryerson. Only less robotic and not sour or scary. He was a mentor as well as a teacher; like a cool uncle. A cool uncle Quinn had no doubt she had disappointed.

"Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?" Russell snapped in return.

"Dad," Quinn whispered in disbelief. Russell glared at her while Quinn just stared. She wouldn't dare glare at her own father. "You can't call Will." Her voice was quivering.

"We'll get somebody," Russell finally said, the edge in his voice almost gone. He stopped to touch her head on his way out. "You should dry your hair before you go to sleep."

"I like it natural."

"It's look so much be-"

"I like it natural," Quinn stressed. She jerked her head away and shifted back a foot or two.

Russell gazed at her for awhile. Quinn didn't know what lurked in his eyes –  _her_  eyes – but she could very well feel the sadness and disappointment emanating from him. She heard him bade a soft goodnight before closing the door behind him.

Quinn looked up and saw the photo of her playing on a dimly lit stage hanging by the door. It was the Loretta Himmelman International in which she placed seventh. It was a prideful achievement for a ten-year-old kid. She wasn't even sure if she was a kid at that age. All she remembered was how tired and old she felt. Her mind was probably more than a thousand years old by now.

That whole week, though, had been a dream. They had gone to Salt Lake City and stayed at this classy hotel – her grandfather, her mother, Frannie and Quinn. Her father was in Beijing at the time. They had egg rolls and waffles for breakfast. They drank hot chocolate. Maybe it was the friend she had made there, Katie. Or maybe it was the lack of her father's anxiety over every trivial detail. Maybe it was her adoration for the piece she was to play. The Rhapsody in B Minor. Her mother wanted her to play something showier. Her father had almost fired Will Schuester for it. She and Will wanted to show everyone that she could pull off being expressive as well as technical.

That week had felt like the last time she had been truly happy. She placed seventh. Her father was proud but his anxiety grew; his need to win at everything expanded. He applied pressure on both her and Will. She placed top three in all the competitions she participated in since then. But the sense of accomplishment was gone when she landed her fifth championship.

It kept on until her grandmother died. She was twelve.

Quinn tore her eyes away from the photo and focused on completing her homework for the next half hour before packing up her backpack. She turned off the lights and laid on the floor next to her bed. It was her and her grandmother's thing. Laying on the floor at night and staring up at the ceiling and listening to the other making up ridiculous stories and just be there by each other's side.

She drifted off to sleep.

" _Lucy Q, you are gonna be the most beautiful and talented pianist in the future. Just remember what Grammy always tell you: don't hear; feel."_


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the weekend had come, Quinn's parents had already accepted that Mr. Ryerson was dead and gone, and it wouldn't do them any good to keep complaining about it. Quinn spent the week watching her father prowl the internet, looking for a suitable tutor for Frannie. She also noticed how Frannie seemed to be more relaxed this week than she had ever been before.

Quinn was curious and anxious and every day she wanted to ask her parents what was going on but she kept quiet. She knew her father wouldn't approve of her slipping an opinion in. She had lost that right five years ago. Of course she had an opinion; she wanted what was best for Frannie. She wanted someone good. Not just musically, but emotionally as well. She wanted Frannie to have someone to look up to.

However, her family had no reason to listen to her. So she kept her mouth shut and holed herself up in her room doing homework whenever she could. She was working especially hard on the assignment Miss Avery had given them for the week.

They were studying short stories. Drabbles. Each student had to choose a writer. They had to read at least five of the writer's stories and then write a paper based on the body of work. It would account for a big chunk of their semester grade and Quinn wanted to impress Miss Avery. It was the thing she was best at, next to piano – which she didn't do anymore. She chose J.D. Salinger.

She had always adored Catcher in the Rye.

When she came home from school on Friday she locked herself away in her room once more, to continue her Salinger note taking, when Frannie came in with a book in hand. Quinn stared at her as Frannie smiled.

"Can I read in your room?" she asked.

Quinn couldn't refuse. So she nodded with a sigh. "As long as you're quiet," she said and then swiveled back to face her desk.

She heard her sister lounging on her bed and paid no mind to her. She had a paper to complete. In every paper Miss Avery assigned, Quinn always tried to find the perfect balance of sounding smart without coming off like a know-it-all. She didn't want to become Jacob Ben Israel 2.0. He was the kind of guy who sprinkled his paper with such a wide array of vocabulary that it sounded like complete bullshit when he read it out loud in class.

He was also the biggest gossip in school. How that came about, she had no idea.

"Do you think Mr Ryerson went to heaven?" Frannie suddenly asked. Quinn barely jumped before she turned her chair to face her sister. "Quinn?" Frannie called after a long minute of silence.

Quinn blinked and shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Does that mean you believe in heaven?"

"I don't know."

"Then why'd you say that he went to heaven?"

Quinn raised a brow. It was something that her sister could never do despite the fact that they shared the same blood. "I didn't," she deadpanned.

Frannie licked her lips and sat up on the bed. Quinn resisted rolling her eyes. "What about grandma?"

The younger Fabray looked down at her fingers. Her smooth and slender fingers. She hadn't touched a key in so long. She swallowed. "I don't know, Fran. She never talked about that kind of stuff."

Silence ensued. Quinn played with her fingers. Frannie stared at her. Quinn tried to not think back to the memories she shared with her grandmother. Frannie was probably feeling guilty for springing the question on her.

"I think they got somebody," Frannie finally said.

It took no more than two seconds for Quinn to understand what she meant. "You've been talking to someone, Fran?" she asked with a frown.

"No."

"I don't think they'll hire someone you haven't met," Quinn said. "I think Dad at least respects you that much as his daughter."

Frannie released a sardonic scoff and shrugged. "I guess."

Quinn frowned at her. She'd never heard Frannie used that tone before. At least not in regards to their parents. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The elder Fabray flipped a page of her book and shrugged with a shake of her head. "Nevermind."

Before Quinn could pursue the subject further, Judy came in with a smile much too bright and much too fake. She was wearing a dress too fancy for the usual dinner. "Why so fancy?" Quinn questioned, despite already knowing the answer.

"We're having company for dinner. I'd like you to dress up, girls."

"Did you find someone?" Frannie asked before Quinn could.

Judy looked at her eldest daughter. "We're still considering her. We'll see how it goes tonight. Now, get dressed. We don't want to keep our guest waiting tonight."

Quinn knew she was silly to expect Frannie to protest, but she couldn't help it. She wanted her sister to stand up for herself. She wanted her to tell their parents to shove it up their asses. She wanted Frannie to tell them that she could do well on her own.

Instead of protest, Frannie only nodded demurely. She remained quiet, sweet and complicit. She closed her book, got up and went out the door, leaving Quinn and Judy alone. Quinn stared at her mother while her mother stared at the photo hanging by the door. Mr Ryerson's death meant nothing. Decisions were made the usual way: Russell Fabray steamrolling over everyone with Judy Fabray's aid while Grandpa Fred stood on the sidelines and let them do their thing.

_Play this piece._

_Wear this dress._

_Be on your best behavior._

_Don't disappoint me._

_Hold your head up._

_You know who you are._

She knew who her father wanted her to be. It wasn't the same thing.

She found herself unable to shift her focus back to the paper she was working on after her mother left the room. Her mind was clouded with frustration and sadness.

It wasn't right for them to force things on Frannie. This tutor could be the nicest person on the planet and it still wasn't right. Like how they forced the piano on her and made her play this and do that. Until she felt like her world was on the brink of explosion. Until her only source of balance stopped breathing. Until quitting felt like the only choice she could make herself.

* * *

Half an hour before the new tutor was due to arrive, Quinn typed the last word of her paper and saved it before closing the laptop lid. She then locked her bedroom door behind her and undressed as she walked into the en suite bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind.

As she stood under the shower head, the water beating down gently on her skin, she couldn't help but feel that this had been what her parents had been doing to her five years ago; beating her gently. Only it didn't soothe her like the shower. They beat her to a pulp. They beat her down to make sure she would be unable to stand up for herself until her tipping point happened.

She spent fifteen minutes blow drying her hair as she stood naked in front of her dressing table. She surveyed her body. She had abs. She had breasts the average size. She was tall. She was beautiful.

So why was she still feeling so mediocre and small? Why was she still feeling as if she didn't deserve anything or anyone? Why?

She finished drying her hair and proceeded into the closet. She put on a set of modest underwear and pulled on a simple light blue dress with a white bolero jacket over it. She styled her hair into a simple ponytail, letting her fringe fall across her forehead. She checked the mirror.

Quinn felt her younger sister instincts kick in. She was going to judge this tutor very closely. And if Quinn didn't like her, she'd definitely not hold her opinions back. She had personal experience. She wanted what was best for her sister.

 _Time to face the music_ , she thought to herself.

She laughed at her own stupid joke.

* * *

Voices came from the foyer. Quinn could already imagine her father standing there, looking dashing and stoic in his dress shirt and jacket and khaki pants, with his hair brushed back. A glass of wine in his hand – always a glass of wine.

Quinn sneaked into the kitchen first to look for Mercedes. Seeing Mercedes had always kind of kept her grounded. With exception of her grandmother and maybe her grandfather, Mercedes was the only person she could talk to. Normally, Mercedes would be off early on Fridays but there was no way her mother could become a gourmet cook with just a hair flip.

Instead of Mercedes, she saw two frazzled young men and a red-haired woman in an apron hustling around the kitchen. She frowned. When did they hire three cooks?

"Q, you shouldn't be here," Mercedes quipped as she appeared out of nowhere with a big bowl of salad in her hand.

Quinn raised a brow at the housekeeper. "Caterers, really?" Her tone was skeptic and judgmental.

"It was my idea," Mercedes answered and gave Quinn a ridiculous look. "This tutor your folks invited is a  _vegan_. I didn't even know that's actually a thing until your mother came to me two hours ago. I had absolutely no clue what to make. Hence, the caterers." Mercedes released an aggravated sigh. "She doesn't even eat  _cheese_ , Q."

"A new challenge for you. Good," Quinn quipped and Mercedes playfully glared at her. "The food you make is delicious and I wasn't sure if there was anything you couldn't do. Now I know."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Before Quinn answered, Mercedes waved her hand in dismissal. "Never mind." She tilted the younger girl's chin with a finger and smiled endearingly at her. "You look beautiful, sweet cheeks. Now scuttle before your father comes looking and goes all gorilla on you."

* * *

Quinn was unsurprised to find everyone down in the wine cellar. It was Russell Fabray's pride and joy. He had collected wine dating as far back as the 1700s. There had never been a time when he hadn't shown a guest the wine cellar. Of course he would keep up with the tradition.

Their backs were to the staircase so they couldn't see Quinn coming down the stairs to finally join them and  _face the music_. Quinn stifled her humorless chuckle. She could easily spot the stranger at the front of the crowd. The tutor was particularly short – shorter than even Frannie. Quinn wondered if this woman was even in her twenties with her height. However, Quinn could not deny that her legs seemed to run for miles from the hem of her skirt.

Quinn swallowed and walked pass Fred, who was standing to the very left of the party, to approach her father. She tapped her father's forearm while he rambled on about how he started collecting wine. He paused abruptly and turned to her. Then, for the first time in a long time, his smile seemed gentle and loving. She wondered if it was an act. He squeezed her in his arms and she kissed his cheek.

He turned to the tutor with his arm looped around Quinn's neck. "Miss Berry, this is Quinn, my youngest. Quinn, this is Miss Rachel Berry."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. Please, call me Rachel," Rachel greeted with a warm smile and shook Quinn's outstretched hand.

Rachel Berry was tanned. She had dark brown tresses flowing over her shoulders and back. Her eyes were brown and warm and surprisingly not hostile. Quinn often found strangers hostile whether they meant to be or not. Her nose was uniquely matching to her facial features. Rachel Berry most certainly wasn't a common beauty. She was exquisite.

Their hands fit.

 _Oh…damn_ , Quinn cursed herself inwardly as she felt warmth gathering in her stomach.

Not another one.

Russell had gone into the depths of the wine cellar to find more 'special' wine to introduce Rachel. Judy, Fred and Frannie followed. However, Rachel stood behind with Quinn. There was an awkward silence stretching out. Quinn tried her very best to not look at the stunning and  _much older_  – she reminded herself, or so she presumed – tutor standing next to her.

"So Quinn," Rachel began, "do you still play?"

Quinn was slightly taken aback, which she really shouldn't. The world was quite small. Surely the stunt she pulled five years ago would have gone across the piano-verse like a wildfire. But to still have it on someone's mind after five years? She never expected that.

She shook her head with a small smile. "No."

"For fun, I mean," Rachel elaborated. "For yourself."

"No," Quinn repeated.

Rachel's brows were furrowed at the answer she received. Quinn just shrugged and sipped from the glass of red wine her father had handed her before. Normally, she wouldn't be allowed even a drop of alcohol, but this was a special occasion. She brought the glass down to see Rachel still looking at her in confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Quinn asked.

Rachel released a breath and shook her head. "It's nothing," she muttered. "You look beautiful," she added with a kind smile.

Quinn ignored the flutter in her chest and nodded. "Thank you."

They didn't tear their eyes off each other until Russell's voice came booming from one of the aisles in the racks of wines. Quinn snapped her gaze from the tutor and grinned at her father. She pretended to listen to her father's boring rambles, twirling the glass stem between her fingers slowly.

She was so relieved when her grandfather came to her side and quietly asked if she wanted to go upstairs. She agreed and wrapped her arm around her grandfather's waist while he did the same and they walked upstairs, her father's voice drifting off as they walked further up.

Mercedes was reading the newspaper at the kitchen island when they finally reached the top. Her eyebrows shot up when they saw the two of them sitting opposite her.

"Can I help you?" she asked cautiously with her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing," Fred said. "It's just…we've heard the speech for the billionth time and my ears were just gonna fall off."

"And what are you doing here?" Mercedes asked Quinn.

Quinn smirked and put the wineglass on the island top. "He's annoying."

"Quinn," Fred chastised; the smile left on his face was telling enough. "So what'd you think of the tutor?"

She played with the stem of the glass and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "So far so good." There was a pause before she asked, "How old is she?"

Fred frowned and stared at his own wineglass. He was thinking for her. The adults in her life didn't normally care much for her except for him and Miss Avery. She appreciated them very much. Fred then twisted his mouth to the side, his beard wrinkling in effect.

"I'm not sure. But I vaguely remember your mother mentioning that she is in her early thirties."

See? Much older. God, Quinn had got to stop with this odd fetish of hers. Being attracted to people older than her wasn't how she imagined her love life.

"Do you think she'd be good for Frannie?"

"I'm not so sure yet."

"You know, she told your father that Frannie should play more video games."

Quinn choked on her wine and dropped her glass down on the table. Fred gently patted her back as she sputtered while Mercedes pretended to be deaf to their conversation. Not that they would have cared. They knew she would keep her mouth shut when it came to Quinn's conversations with basically anybody. Mercedes was oddly loyal like that.

When Quinn finally felt more relaxed, she heaved a loud breath and cleared her throat. "They let her stay in the house after a suggestion like that?" she asked with a grimace as she massaged her throat.

Fred smirked and chuckled. "I've seen stranger things."

"Like?"

"Your grandmother trying to strip dance in a dinosaur onesie," Fred mentioned.

Quinn and Mercedes nearly fell off their stools.

* * *

"A toast," Russell announced. He stood up and clinked his glass with a teaspoon. From the way he was swaying, Quinn deduced that he was at least a quarter drunk. Quinn shook her head in amusement and lifted her glass as well. She was pretty sure that she, Frannie and Rachel were the only ones sober at this table.

"To Rachel!" his voice grew unbelievably louder as he said the two syllables. Quinn grimaced and smirked at the same time. She glanced at Rachel to see her smiling a little uncomfortably. "And to Frannie."

Quinn held up her glass and grinned at her sister, who grinned back. She still believed that Frannie should have met with Rachel first, she had to admit that it looked like things would work out great. Frannie deserved to look as happy as she looked right now.

"It means you're hired by the way," she whispered across the table to Rachel. Rachel didn't look at her but the minor widening of her smile told her that she heard what Quinn had said. "Hear, hear!" Quinn said and the rest of the party echoed her sentiment.

Quinn was surprised Russell didn't burst out laughing like a drunken fool when he downed the entire glass of wine. "Anyone wants a topper?" he exclaimed. His hand was already wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle.

Quinn shook her head politely and discreetly motioned for Mercedes to bring her a glass of water. She had to go out with Santana and Brittany tomorrow. She couldn't afford to be drunk.

"Can I make another?" Rachel asked as soon as Quinn's water was handed to her. It was as if she was waiting for Quinn to have a glass in her hand. Quinn pushed the thought away. She refused to allow herself that kind of illusion.

Quinn remembered when her grandmother used to wait for her. It didn't matter if they were going out or even as simple as having dinner. Grammy would always wait for her. So patient. So kind. So loving. Quinn sighed. She wished her grandmother was here.

Rachel raised her glass of wine. Everyone around the table grew quiet, waiting for her to speak. Quinn tried to anticipate what would come out of those full lips. Quinn blinked and blushed discreetly. Maybe Rachel would say something funny and sappy.

She caught Quinn's eyes and seemed to lose focus for a moment.

"Go ahead," Russell urged.

Rachel laughed in embarrassment and broke her eyes from Quinn's to face the man. "It's a genuine privilege to be able to sit here and enjoy dinner with you. Everyone knows what a talented gene pool you've got. You've managed to make contributions with your art." She nodded at Fred. "And Lord knows how many criminals you've put behind bars with your eloquent tongue." She smiled at Russell, who beamed smugly. "Also, your talented and beautiful children." With that, Rachel glanced at Frannie and made eye contact with Quinn. "And so, here's to that." Rachel nodded at Quinn. "To music. To the joy it brings to the world. To the wonder it manifests in people."

Quinn couldn't help but be struck. Rachel sounded so sincere. Could anyone really say that out loud and mean that? She didn't have time to ponder as she suddenly found herself clinking glasses.

Russell stood up and gestured at the table for them to get up as well. "To the piano. I can't wait to hear what'll come out of it."

* * *

The piano.

There were better pianos out there than this one. But this one came with a tale. Of war and tragedy overseas and love. Quinn tuned out while her father recited the long story to Rachel. She already had the key facts  _engraved_  in her memories. She tried to not roll her eyes.

It surprised her how easy it was for her to step into this room. She hadn't come near this place in so long. If it wasn't for this new tutor, she wouldn't have to be here. It also surprised her that she didn't collapse or explode when she saw the gleaming piano sitting right in the middle of the room in all its glory. This room had been the site of her personal high, high, highs and low, low, lows.

Quinn gazed at her own face in the reflection on the piano's surface. She managed to appear calm, but her heart was thumping loud and heavy against her chest. Her shoulders felt like they'd been weighted down with a thousand tons. Her hands were tightly wrapped around the stem of her wineglass. She took a small step away from the piano and looked up only to catch Rachel staring at her over Russell's shoulder.

Rachel's eyes were so concentrated on the blonde. She would occasionally nod and hummed at the appropriate times but Quinn somehow knew she wasn't really listening to Russell. Pale blush crept up Quinn's neck but try as she might, she couldn't break eye contact with the tutor. She watched the bridge of Rachel's nose twitch slightly and her teeth worrying her lip. She watched Rachel shifting her weight. Quinn merely stood there and watched without moving an inch.

Until Russell came into her vision and stood nearer to Rachel. "Care to give it a spin?" he asked after he was done expressing the tale of the piano.

Quinn blinked and looked down to her feet. She blinked more and cleared her throat quietly. She allowed a small shudder to run through her body before she rounded the large instrument to sit on the sofa at the far end of the room.

"I'd love to," Rachel said with a grin. Her voice sounded a little strained and Quinn smirked slightly, glad that she wasn't the only one flustered from what had just happened.

She and Frannie took a seat on the bench and unsheathed the lid over the keys, revealing clean white and black keys beneath. Quinn's eyes settled on them and she could faintly hear herself playing Bach in her head. Her thoughts were disrupted when her grandfather settled on the sofa next to her. Russell had taken the wingback chair, Judy perched on the arm.

They all had a glass of wine in their hands except for the two teenagers and the tutor. Quinn couldn't help but be unsurprised by the scene.

Rachel cracked her knuckles and stretched her neck. Then she stared at Quinn's sister expectantly. "So what are we going to play?"

Frannie looked blank. Usually, he was told, not asked.

Rachel pressed down on a couple of keys and her grin grew wider. "Oh, this is nice. I can feel the history." She grinned at Russell who raised his glass to her.

She launched into a Gershwin piece that Quinn's grandmother had adored during her living days. She used to request Quinn to play it for her whenever they were alone or they were just fooling around for fun. Quinn wondered how Rachel knew. Of course, there was the fact that Gershwin was one of the most renowned musicians in the world. Rachel probably whipped it out by coincidence.

Sometimes, Quinn just wanted to smack her sister in the back of the head. For a seventeen year old about to graduate high school, Frannie could be so naïve sometimes. Quinn knew that it was all their parents' doing but seriously.

She watched Rachel again.

Her left leg moved along with the gentle tapping of her heel. Her fingers, confident, glided across the keys like a professional ice skater would across an ice rink. They were flexible, thin and fine. They produced music with rich dynamics. Rachel Berry was good. Rachel Berry was better than good.

Which should do fine with Russell.

Only 'fine' wasn't in their vocabulary.

"You know this?" Rachel asked Frannie, still playing.

Frannie scooted closer and shrugged. "Um, not really."

Sometimes, Quinn just wanted to smack her sister in the back of the head. For a seventeen who was about to graduate high school, Frannie could be so naïve sometimes. Quinn knew that it was all their parents' doing but seriously.

"Play what you were working on with Mr Ryerson for the showcase," Russell suggested.

Rachel made a face that Quinn was sure only she saw. Then she smiled. "Nah, work starts on Tuesdays. Tonight's just for fun."

Quinn expected her father to say something in protest but he kept his silence. So did everyone else in the room. Rachel had cast a spell on all of them. Impressive.

"Alright, Frannie," Rachel started. She stopped playing the Gershwin and started playing the keys to some pop tune that Quinn had forgotten the name to. "How about we improvise?"

Frannie's eyes widened and she stuttered, "I don't know…I" Rachel only smiled in encouragement.

Quinn's breathing grew shallow. She swore to god that that smile could bring them anywhere. She felt nervous. It was as if she was sitting at the piano instead of Frannie, asked to be spontaneous in front of their father, the king of calculations. On the other hand, Quinn felt exhilarated and excited. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt anything but boredom and something akin to despise in this house. Rachel had energy and she filled the entire room with it.

Quinn took a breath and said loudly, "Come on, Fran!"

Frannie's eyes met hers and Quinn winked.  _Show them_. Frannie's lips stretched into a minor smile and her fingers settled on the keys, but they didn't press down onto them.

"Go ahead, kiddo," Grandpa Fred urged. His feet were tapping to the keys and his head was swaying. Quinn was ready to stop him in case he decided to jump onto his feet and dance in his drunken state.

Quinn's leg twitched. She wanted this moment to bloom. She wanted this moment to be etched into each of their hearts. She wanted Frannie to do it. She wanted to her sister to blow everyone in this room off with her exceeding talents.

Frannie did. Beautiful music flourished beneath her fingers. Even though it didn't quite match to what Rachel was expecting initially – god knows how Quinn knew that – Frannie soon picked it up and Quinn finally recognized the song. Nicki Minaj's  _Super Bass_. They'd managed to turn a pop and crude song into one beautiful masterpiece. Quinn exhaled and leaned back into the sofa.

How she wished she had a recorder on hand right now. She would record this performance and listen to it for her entire life. Her sister did it. Her sister pulled off being spontaneous perfectly. Her sister blew them all away, even Quinn herself.

If Rachel was the person she seemed to be so far, then things would probably change for Frannie. Maybe the choking grip would lessen, or finally go away. Maybe Rachel could help to manifest some freedom into Frannie's mind and teach her how to play for the sake of playing.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel called out, loud and sudden, startling her out of her thoughts. "Now you!" Rachel lifted a hand and gestured at the piano.

Quinn pointed at herself with a brow rose.  _Me?_ Rachel nodded enthusiastically, her hand already back on the keys.

The younger blonde wedged her hands beneath her thighs and clenched the fabric of her dress. Frannie stopped playing and scooted off the bench to make room, her eyes alight. She actually thought Quinn would do it.

"No, thank you," she said, her voice steady.

Her grandfather nudged her. Quinn tried all she could to not snap at him. Because he was drunk and he seemed to have forgotten. "No," she repeated firmly.  _No, no and hell no_.  _No._

She had basically  _just_  told Rachel that she'd stopped playing since five years ago. She wasn't a pianist anymore. She didn't play anymore. Not for fun. Not for herself. And most definitely not for the people in this room who were looking at her both expectantly and skeptically; especially not the two people who ruined it for her.

Quinn got up before Rachel could urge her again. She turned away from her father who staring at her with narrowed eyes. She could almost hear him saying,  _Don't you know Quinn is a quitter?_  His voice would be dripping with venom and disappointment and taunt. It was a thing he did, even to the people he loved.

Fred held on to Quinn's wrist gently. "Stay, please," he whispered. Quinn looked down and she saw his eyes shimmering with apology and grievance.

Quinn felt sorry for him. Her chest trembled as she inhaled and exhaled. Then she leaned down and kissed his cheek as an apology for not doing as he asked. Rachel had stopped playing. She turned around.

"I'm sorry but I don't feel well. Have a good night. And nice to meet you, Rachel," she said. It sounded so fake. But everything about her had been sort of fake.

She was a falsity.

Quinn slipped out of the room and almost ran into Mercedes. She was standing outside. She probably heard everything that had transpired in there. Quinn fought to not break down in front of her housekeeper who cared for her so much. She bade a quiet goodnight to Mercedes and brushed past her. She took the stairs two at a time and, too far away from them to hear, slammed the door.

" _Lucy dear, play for the sake of playing. Because then and only then will you be able to feel the genuineness of music."_


	3. Chapter 3

It was lunch time, and Quinn wasn't in the mood to sit in the cafeteria and eat and talk with her friends. She needed quiet time. It was quite funny how a person she had only briefly met on Friday could still have such a profound effect on her on Monday. So instead of heading to the cafeteria, she grabbed the lunch Mercedes had made her and headed to Miss Avery's room.

Miss Avery was sitting at her big desk, marking papers. Quinn knocked on the door twice and smiled at her. She, in turn, beckoned her in with a friendly smile. She took her usual seat and unpacked her lunchbox. She took a book out of her bag and began reading while chewing on her sandwich.

Normally, she would have stared at Miss Avery for awhile before she started eating. Normally, Miss Avery would be too absorbed in marking her papers, or reading some book, or doing whatever thing teachers were always doing to ever notice her staring. Normally, she would have marveled over how pretty and nice Miss Avery was.

But now, she just wasn't in the mood. Since Saturday, she hadn't been in the mood to do anything. She hung out with Santana and Brittany earlier in the day, but since then she had been wallowing in her room. Her father had been too drunk the night before to remember what had transpired between Quinn and the new tutor. Her mother had tried to talk to her, but she refused to cooperate.

"What made you choose Salinger?" Quinn looked up, a little startled. Miss Avery was staring at her expectantly.

She swallowed the piece of sandwich and cleared her throat. "Um."  _To impress you?_ "I enjoy his stories. He has a character of his own. The people he writes seem…real."

"I wrote a thesis on him once in college," Miss Avery admitted.

"Oh yeah?"

It wasn't her best hair day. Quinn could see she had come to school in a hurry this morning. Probably had a late night. It was probably a good thing they were a few seats apart. Otherwise, Quinn couldn't be sure she wouldn't reach out and brush some of the teacher's hair back from her face.

"Have you decided on the other four stories of his that you're gonna write about?"

Quinn gazed at her teacher's wrists. She imagined a pen in her hand and her head bowed in concentration as she graded Quinn's most recent paper. She imagined Miss Avery as a smart, popular college student hunched over her table, a dog at her feet. Then she imagined herself doing the same. Maybe English could be where her future lay. Music was out of the question. She was very interested in English. A PhD. and then a tenure at an Ivy League school. That would take only like, what, twenty years?

"Well, I've already started taking notes and writing some," Quinn told the teacher. "It's still a work in progress."

Miss Avery was speaking, but Quinn didn't have her usual intense ability to concentrate on her. Her mind was reliving Friday night and the hopeful expression on Rachel's face when she called Quinn to join them in their performance. It was as though Rachel was confident that Quinn could do better than Frannie. And maybe Quinn could – she did start playing piano at a young age and won quite a number of awards before she'd walked off stage – but she wasn't about to steal her sister's spotlight.

And she wasn't ready to lay her fingers on those marvelous keys.

Frannie had expressed her liking of Rachel during breakfast the next morning and then the decision was made. Rachel was to be her new tutor, starting Tuesday. Quinn did not speak a word. She'd walked away when her mother tried to bring up the incident between her and Rachel.

"Quinn." She was snapped out of her thoughts and Miss Avery was right in front of her. Quinn's eyes widened. "Quinn, is something wrong?"

The blonde blinked and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, uh, no. Nothing. I was just thinking about something."

Miss Avery stared at her owlishly for what felt like the longest second ever before she dragged the desk chair in front of her, turned it around and sat facing Quinn. "Quinn, you barely come in here during lunch break. When you do come here, it's usually because something happened. I told you a long time ago, if you need someone to talk to, even just to let out your frustration, I'm here."

Quinn looked down at her lunchbox, juggling the idea to tell her teacher or not. "Say," she started. "Say you have someone who…tried to drag your past back into your life unintentionally, but you just weren't ready. And yet you can't stop thinking about it. Thinking about how nice it'd be to do it again. Thinking about how it's time to face it again. What would you do?"

Miss Avery narrowed her eyes a little in contemplation. She hummed. "Well, you've got yourself quite a problem there, don't you?" Quinn didn't say or do anything in response. "I'd do it. Follow your heart. It's what I always say. Life's too short to hesitate over anything. If you wanna do it, then do it. Don't wait. You don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, one hour later, hell, even the next second. Don't miss an opportunity over your silly little doubts."

"But it's not little," Quinn retorted.

"I'm just gonna assume this is about the piano." Quinn closed her mouth abruptly and she just stared at Miss Avery. "I've heard about you in the teachers' lounge, Quinn. I've researched you, to be completely honest. And you were…remarkable. I know it's been five years. I don't know what happened. But I'm sure you're still as talented as you were five years ago. You don't have to do it to perform in public or to compete. You can do it for yourself."

Quinn blinked. It was like déjà vu, because Rachel Berry had said almost the same thing Friday night. Quinn was flattered to know that her favorite teacher, whom she had a crush on, had done research on her.

Before she could say anything, the bell rang. Miss Avery stood up and smiled at Quinn. "I know you have a free period now but I don't. So as much as I want to stay and talk with you, you gotta scuttle."

Quinn packed her things and nodded gratefully at the teacher. "Thanks, Miss Avery."

"You're welcome. Just know that I'll be here if you ever need anyone to talk to, no pressure." Quinn was on her way out when Miss Avery stopped her. "Thanks for the pie, Quinn. It was delicious."

It was kind of sad to believe that at sixteen your best years were behind you. The promise Miss Avery had given her put a little hope in her.

* * *

By the next morning, her mood had improved considerably.

Miss Avery had loaned her a collection of J.D. Salinger stories. When she flipped through them, she saw penciled notes, underlines and a few Post-Its with comments specifically for her. She promised herself that she wouldn't disappoint her teacher with this assignment.

Quinn decided to join her friends for lunch in the cafeteria. Finn and Puck weren't there today, leaving only Santana and Brittany, who were feeding each other Cheetos. Quinn couldn't help but grin at the sight of them being lovey dovey together.

They didn't bother asking her of her absence yesterday. They knew she was a person who kept things to herself until she was willing to say it loud. Until then, they'd steer clear of her way.

When she got back home, going through the back door, the kitchen was full of sunlight and Mercedes was pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven. Quinn, being mischievous, went ahead and stole a piece before Mercedes could kick her out of the kitchen. The housekeeper was muttering about incorrigible lovable teenagers as Quinn scurried out.

"Thanks, Mercedes!" she yelled back.

She was licking her fingers clean of brownie crumbs when she walked past the empty music room, reminding her that Rachel was supposed to be here today. She poked her head in and looked around, making sure there were no signs of life inside.

She assumed Rachel and Frannie were in their father's study, checking out the vast collection of albums Russell owned. She decided she shouldn't bother them. The little tingle she felt for Rachel should vanish soon if she just stayed out of the way. She closed the door to the music room and headed upstairs.

She had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard Frannie's voice from below. "Quinn!" She peeked down the second floor railing and saw Frannie at the archway to the living room and Rachel already halfway up the stairs. "Me and Rachel were just playing Wii tennis. She's really good!

 _Wii tennis_? Quinn looked to Rachel, who was smiling at her. She ignored the flutter in her abdomen. She really wasn't about kidding about the video games. Quinn briefly wondered what her father would think if he found out.

"Does Dad know about this?" she asked with a squint.

Frannie's grin widened and Quinn could hardly believe it. "Yeah! Rachel said it'd be good exercise, so he gave me the go ahead."

Quinn arched a brow and cleared her throat. "Well, you better get back to it, then." she answered. She pointed at Rachel who was already at the top of the stairs. When the fuck did she get up here? "You don't wanna get on her bad side on your first day," Quinn mock whispered.

She could hear Rachel's choking laughter a few feet from her. "Rachel?" Frannie called and they both turned to look at the tutor.

"How about a match, Quinn? I see you've got a winning streak on the scoreboard," Rachel suggested. The expression on her face was almost similar to the one when she asked Quinn to join them at the piano. It unnerved her. Any invitation from this woman might be dangerous.

Quinn laughed before she could stop herself. "It doesn't take much to beat Frannie. Sorry, Frannie."

"It's okay. Rachel said I could get better."

"Why don't you go back to practicing tennis and maybe you can beat me later, Frannie?" Rachel called out. Frannie nodded and went back inside. She turned back to Quinn. "I break every hour. Helps the brain to absorb new info. Science says so."

Quinn leaned against the railing, unaware of how relaxed she'd become. "You don't strike me as the kind to believe in science. A lot, anyway."

Rachel raised both eyebrows and she stepped closer. Quinn allowed her to. "Well, what do I strike you as?"

The blonde wasn't sure what it was, but she felt like the air between them had somehow shifted; it felt kind of heated. Quinn gulped and grabbed the railing tighter. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. There was a pause before she released her grip on the railing. She lifted the straps of her backpack higher up her shoulders and took two steps back. "Sorry, I've got homework."

"Wait, Quinn," Rachel stopped her. She brushed her hair back and made a small grimace at Quinn. "About the other night, I'm sorry I put you on the spot."

"Don't worry about it."

"I guess I assumed that you still played a little."

Quinn pasted on a mocking smile. "I don't. I told you." She went back two more steps.

"Never?"

Halfway down the hall, she swung back around and found that Rachel was directly in front of her. Despite her being taller than the older woman, their gazes were directly locked on each other. "Are you going to follow me all the way to my room?

She felt like she could cry at any second. The smell of brownies. Frannie being happy playing. Rachel raising a toast at dinner. Rachel and Frannie at the piano, creating joy. The damn piano.

All to remind her how much she'd once loved playing. With all her heart.

Writing an English essay would never be a good enough substitute.

Rachel put a hand against the wall. It was dark in the hallway. It was quiet. They were alone. Quinn took a small step back in caution. Not of Rachel but of herself.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"I said don't worry about it."

Rachel lifted her hand. It hung mid-air. Her fingers were moving in the air as if to gesture something. Quinn watched her hand; watched her mouth. She waited to see what would come out. While she was waiting, she noticed the faint highlights in Rachel's hair. Her nose that seemed slightly out of proportions. Her chestnut brown eyes.

"What?" Quinn finally asked out of impatience.

The brunette's tongue flicked across her lower lip in an instance. "You never play."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

Rachel shook her head. "You  _never_ play." Quinn was glad it was dark enough here. "You, Lucy Quinn Fabray, never play," she whispered. There was a tinge of sorrow in her voice.

Quinn gulped. Her eyes felt watery. "Never," she whispered in return.

"That makes me sad."

What the hell could she say to that? It was a compliment and a judgment in a sentence. It angered her; it made her sad too. The tears were just there. Quinn turned her back to the tutor and took firm strides towards her bedroom.

"Do you want to? Ever?"

She felt like she had so few choices right now. She could laugh. She could turn back around and maybe slap the damn woman in the face. She could tell Rachel to leave her alone and be mad that she even dared to ask. Or she could stay and explain to her the complicated, emotional mechanism by which the idea of playing again became wrapped around the notion of giving in to her father and missing her grandmother and betraying her promise to herself.

She could do any of that, really.

But.

_What do you want, Quinn Fabray? Really?_

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but didn't look back at her.

"I don't know."

 _Maybe_.

"Maybe."

* * *

How in the world did an attractive stranger managed to tear open her seams and her promises and her façade with one smile and one invitation and one question?

* * *

Quinn was nearly late to English again on Wednesday. She'd swooped into class just as the bell rang; she was the last to arrive. Miss Avery saw her and smiled, motioning her in. "That's a close one. Take a seat, Miss Fabray."

Jacob Ben Israel glanced between them for awhile before giving her a look. His signature  _I-know-everything-that-happens-in-this-school_  look. She wasn't the least bit intimidated. He had given everybody that look so many times before that no one paid him any mind, knowing he was just a load of bull.

She took her seat and tried to focus. English. Santana. Puck. School. Being Miss Avery's pet. She had a good thing going until Rachel's face took a trip to her mind's eye.

A week ago, those things would have been enough. With piano playing behind her, English and everything else would have been enough. She could' have sat here, still harboring a monstrous crush on her English teacher, still being Quinn Fabray, the screw-up of the family. Nobody expected anything from her. Not that they did now, either. She was under the radar and that was how she liked it. Better to be invisible than to be another major disappointment.

She took out  _Othello_  from her bag and opened it to the page where Miss Avery had stopped at the last time they had a class. She tried to focus on the words. For some reason, the words on the page all turned into musical notes in her imagination.

* * *

Quinn felt almost normal again by lunchtime. She spent second period ignoring her chemistry teacher and telling herself that whatever she wanted didn't matter now. She had already given it up five years ago and her father would never allow her near the piano again.

She had managed to convince herself that she didn't want any of it. She didn't want to go to concert halls or anything. She should be enjoying her freedom, instead of imagining herself being back in a cage.

Puck chose to eat with them this time. He dropped his jacket on the table and slid in the bench next to Quinn. "I need to be with sane people."

Quinn raised a brow and grinned teasingly. "Look who's talking," she drawled and took a big bite of her cheeseburger. She hummed in pleasure at the taste exploding in her mouth. God, Mercedes made the best cheeseburger.

"My boys would not stop bashing Super Mario and I'm done with it," Puck claimed. "Also, Tina Cohen-Chang's stalking me."

The blonde frowned at the notion. Tina Cohen-Chang was her biology lab partner. They were acquaintances. And maybe Quinn didn't know the girl that well, but she knew the Asian girl enough to know that she'd never do things like stalk people, not even Puck. She had better things to do.

Like being an ideal Asian.

"I know you consider yourself a stud or something along that line, but dear me, that's quite the delusion," Quinn told him.

"She's stalking me!" he insisted. Quinn, Santana and Brittany exchanged looks and simultaneously decided to ignore him. Puck huffed. "Oh come on!"

"Just shut the hell up, Puckerman," Santana said with an annoyed look. "Tina Cohen-Chang has a boyfriend who is definitely much hotter than you. Mike Chang. Get your facts right. You probably think she's stalking you because her Mike is on the football team with you, and naturally, she hangs around him a lot."

Quinn half-listened to their bickering as she concentrated on trying to peel her orange in one strip without breaking it apart. She could distinctly hear a few insults thrown here and there and once when she looked up; she saw that Brittany was watching her intently. She grinned. Brittany always was nice and kind of ignorant to stuff going on around her.

Puck turned to her when he gave up on getting one over Santana. "So what's going on with you?"

She grinned and wagged the orange peel in his face. "This. Bow to me."

He lowered his head and knocked it against the table surface three times. "All hail Queen Quinn," he played along.

"Rise."

"For god's sake, why am I friends with you two?" Santana exclaimed. She looked at them as if they were the biggest tragedies in the world.

Quinn's grin widened and she made smooching noises at her best friend. Santana fake gagged. They all burst out in laughter before Puck repeated his question.

"Oh yeah, did your folks get your sister a new tutor?" Santana asked.

"Yeah."

"She or he?"

"She." Quinn shrugged in pretend nonchalance. "She's…young, in comparison to Mr Ryerson. I guess that's a plus."

The Latina studied her for a long moment before realization struck her, lighting up her eyes. She ran her hand over her face and leaned closer to Quinn. "Not again," she whispered in protest. Quinn could barely fight the wince. Santana sighed. "Cute?"

Quinn fished for her phone and showed her the picture they took the night they invited Rachel over for dinner. "She looks like she's thirty," was the first thing Santana said. As if Quinn expected more. "But well, she's kind of cute, I guess."

Quinn showed it to Puck. "Oh, I'd bang that." She smacked him hard on his forearm. "What? She's 'bangable'."

"Is that a word?" Brittany asked, frowning at Puck.

"No, it's not, Britt," Santana answered.

"Cute is as cute does," Quinn said cryptically.

Her standards of attraction had always been diverse from her peers. For example, Finn Hudson was the school's virgin and sweet hunk who'd been chasing her tail since god-knows-when. She just wasn't attracted to him. Another example, Noah Puckerman was the school's sex shark. He'd sleep with anything with a vagina, and yet, she still couldn't find herself charmed by his sex appeal.

She knew she wasn't the only student in the school who realized that Miss Avery was beautiful and hot. Anyone with a brain would want her. However, Quinn was also sure that she was the only one in the school who actually discovered what exactly Miss Avery's appeal was. The same went for Rachel.

Sure, she hadn't spent a lot of time with the woman, but Rachel was something different since their first meeting. And for the life of her, Quinn Fabray couldn't stop herself from being drawn to Rachel, even if it was considered taboo and illegal.

"You have a very unhealthy fetish, Fabray."

"Look at all the fucks I give," Quinn deadpanned.

* * *

The piano was playing. It was the first thing she noticed the minute she walked in the back door. Grandpa Fred was sitting at the island with a notebook and a cup of coffee in front of him. Mercedes was sat across from him. Her father had hired the housekeeper before she was born. She basically watched Quinn grow up.

Quinn threw her bag on top of the island and sat next to Grandpa Fred. She leaned towards him to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. Mercedes watched them endearingly. Sometimes, Quinn thought that the three of them were the only sane ones in the family. The only ones who weren't so obsessed with popularity and talent and all that crap.

"I'm making a grocery list," Mercedes said. "Anything you need? Sam's picking me up in a few minutes."

Sam was Mercedes' husband. They were high school sweethearts. Quinn had met him a few times and she would still be startled every time she saw him because he and Grandpa Fred looked so much alike. They couldn't see the similarities but Quinn swore to god that it was all there.

"Hershey's Kisses. We're out of them. Oh, bacon!" Quinn basically squealed.

Mercedes chuckled and jotted it down in her notebook with her fountain pen. Mercedes never used ballpoint or gel pen. She'd always been attached to this fountain pen. She claimed that it was a wedding gift from Sam. There was a whole cupboard in the kitchen completely dedicated to Mercedes' ridiculously wide range of inks.

Once upon a time, Quinn had stolen a bottle of ink and gone upstairs with it. She'd dipped her fingers in the bottle of ink and made abstract art in her textbooks with it. The ink refused to wash off her hands for a couple of days. Mercedes didn't get her in trouble for it. Instead, she helped Quinn hide her dirty hands, which only made her love the housekeeper even more.

"So what do you think about the new tutor so far?" Fred asked.

Quinn fidgeted with her fingers. "I don't know. I mean, Frannie likes her. I'm happy about that."

"Hmm."

"What about you?"

Fred grinned and brushed his hand over his whitening head. "I've had a couple of talks with her. She seems very…open and carefree. I think that's what your sister needs at the moment. I like her."

"Rachel Berry is an extraordinary piano tutor and friend. Unlike Ryerson, she's very relaxed and bright. Your sister definitely  _needs_  that," Mercedes interjected. "Trust me, I've gotten to know her in a way that only employees of the household can."

"Mercedes," Fred started.

"Nobody thinks you're just 'an employee' in this household," Quinn finished for him.

Mercedes smiled. "Okay. The point is I admire her. And I have a feeling she and I can be great friends and I look forward to that." She tore the grocery list off the notebook. "That said, Rachel Berry is good for Frannie Fabray. And I'll tell you this: your grandmother would have adored the hell out of that woman."

"What makes you say so?" Fred asked in curiosity. Quinn suspected she was right.

"Spend more time with the tutor, Fred. You'll find that your wife and Rachel would have been kindred spirits."

It was a scary thought. Quinn loved her grandmother. She couldn't afford to fall for her sister's piano tutor because she reminded Quinn of her grandmother. Especially considering Rachel was ten years her senior.

There was also the fact that Rachel Berry had somehow made her head pop out of the turtle shell she was hiding in.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Quinn made it a point to not be home whenever Rachel was around. Mercedes was a good source who also didn't question her motives. Quinn had asked Mercedes to report Rachel's movements within the house every day.

If Rachel was around, she would head to the Lima Bean, pick up two drinks and two chicken pies, and visit Miss Avery's room. She would give the teacher her share of goodies, and sit in the room doing her homework while the teacher did her own work. It was serene and peaceful and she had the chance to think things through without anyone interrupting. If she didn't go to Miss Avery's, she would just crash at Santana or Brittany's place until she got the clear that Rachel had left.

Quinn didn't want to hear any invitations to play whatever, any follow-up questions or how tragic it was that she never played.

Quinn's feet pounded rapidly on the trail up the hill. Her earphones were plugged as Lady Gaga blasted in her ears. Breathe in. Breathe out. Run. Next to English and that other thing, running was her favorite pastime. It made her sweat. It kept her in shape. It exhausted her.

Exhaustion would make her too tired to think about things.

To her right, the sunlight streamed in lines through the tiny spaces between the tree leaves. Jagged. Irregular. Mesmerizing. It was beautiful.

It had been too long since she had that thought; the feelings of joy and things being right or at least okay, because if your own life wasn't perfect – and god knew what a fucking mess hers was – there was this _world_.

Green. Nature. Fresh. Lively. Passive. Free.

And she was living in it. She was away from parents and classes and pressure. Life, in general.

Quinn diverted from the trail and ran right into the woods. She knew where she was going. She'd marked the trees. She knew. She ran till she reached her destination. It was a small space, just after the trees cleared. There was a cliff standing out with a view of Lima, Ohio. She grinned.

She proceeded to sit on the edge of the cliff, one leg pulled up and the other hanging over the edge, and took a refreshing breath. It was thrilling and fun. And it relaxed her.

She closed her eyes and listened. The rapid beating of her heart. The wind. The leaves. They belonged to her and her only. She laughed for no reason.

She wanted to grab whatever it was she was feeling right now and absorb it right down to her bones. Yet it always seemed beyond her grasp. Sometimes only by little, like right now. The thinnest membrane preventing her from getting it.

She should be allowed at least a tiny bit of joy, right? For at least five minutes. She deserved that. Or maybe she didn't. It wasn't too much to ask, though. To be able to feel like this.

To hold on to that membrane and feel alive.

* * *

Rachel was on her way out when Quinn returned home from her run. She had spent a little too much time at the cliff lavishing in the joy, and now she was 15 minutes late. Her folks were probably worried sick.

And yet, she found herself stopping in her run and standing in front of Rachel who was bundled up in a fluffy jacket and a pair of knee-high boots.

"Hey," Quinn greeted lamely.

Rachel looked her over and her lips quirked up. "Good run?"

"Pretty much."

Oddly enough, instead of feeling uncomfortable, Quinn felt warm and  _especially_ comfortable as Rachel gazed at her for the next five seconds or twenty minutes. Quinn didn't know. She wasn't paying attention to the ticking second hand. She was just silently pleading for Rachel to say or do something.

"Is this your way of…compensating for your longing to play?" Rachel asked.

Quinn blinked. Okay, where in the world was this woman's couth? "Whatever happened to your couth?"

Rachel smirked. "I threw them away in favor of you." That almost sounded flirtatious and Quinn was certain she didn't mean it that way. But that damn smirk remained on the brunette's face. "So, is it?"

The former pianist rolled her eyes and sidestepped. "I don't know who you think you are, Rachel," Quinn said, turning around to face her again. "But I'm not some experiment or something like that. I know I was kind of a big deal back then and maybe you thought you'd try bringing me back on stage and take the credit for doing it. It's not going to work."

"Quinn –"

"No," she interjected sternly. "That part of my life is done. Gone. Finished. It's over. I made that choice and I can't go back."

"What's stopping you?" Rachel asked. Quinn's breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Rachel nodded after a couple of minutes of silence on her side. "Look, you have misunderstood my intentions. I may have once been a fame hungry musician, but I'm not that person anymore."

Quinn frowned in confusion.

"I've seen you perform. Live, no less. You were very talented. More talented than your sister is, dare I say. You have it in your blood. You understand music. You understand the language of playing. You're a  _natural_ and no matter how much you try to get past that, it's never going to disappear. You're stuck with it forever."

"Stop."

"It makes me sad that you're willing to throw that away just like that. I don't know what happened and you don't have to tell me. But I'm not…I can't just allow you to continue this ignorance of your gift when I have a chance to bring you back to it. Just for the sake of playing it for  _yourself_. Just for the sake of enjoying the joy of creating it."

Rachel was saying all the right things and all the wrong things at the same time. Quinn didn't even realize she was crying until the woman reached out to wipe the tears away. She had to fight the urge to lunge forward and kiss her. So she kept quiet.

Rachel took a step back and Quinn nearly whined at the loss of contact. "I know I've stepped over the line and you have the right to complain to your parents and get me fired. But I still hope you'll think about what I said. You're more than welcome to talk to me." Rachel paused and Quinn watched the woman stare at her for a long while. "As friends," she breathed.

Quinn's frown deepened. Rachel bade goodbye and drove out of their driveway in the span of a few short minutes. Quinn was left staring at the gravel driveway and wondering what in the hell Rachel had meant by that.

Then it came to her.

Oh.

_Oh._

She wasn't the only one who had more than appropriate thoughts about the other.

Crap.

_"Lucy, sweetheart, sometimes you have to not care about your parents or your tutor's opinions. Sometimes, you gotta stay in the room and just play. Ignore everything. Only the music. And you."_


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn would have been late if it weren't for Mercedes waking her up, kind soul that she was. Despite that, her family was already seated at the dining table waiting when she arrived. She finished pulling her hair into a neat ponytail and swept her fringe back before taking her seat next to Grandpa Fred. She bade good morning to everyone.

"So, Frannie, what have you and Rachel been working on?" Russell asked from the head of the table.

Frannie looked at her father and then to Quinn. "Um…Bach. We're working on Bach. I had been practicing it with Mr Ryerson. Rachel thought it was a good starting point."

"Is that what you plan on playing at the showcase?" Judy asked. Frannie shrugged. Judy looked to Russell and cleared her throat. "Well, shouldn't you be doing something you've known longer? I think it would decrease the chances of you making a mistake."

Quinn rolled her eyes but kept quiet. Her father saw it anyway. "You've got something to say, Quinn?"

She looked up from her breakfast and licked her lips. "Making a mistake," she quoted. "That's just your way of saying 'messing things up'."

Judy released a frustrated sigh. "We just think that it may be a little too intricate. And Frannie is just started learning it. Remember how you –"

"Yeah, I do," Quinn interjected quickly. She had been eight. She was playing Bach, and had gotten confused in the middle of it. She was lucky, and managed to pull it off and place at the competition. "And you guys really need to stop talking as if Frannie isn't sitting right here."

"Your father and I are just wondering if it's a little too ambitious. A bit dry. It's a showcase, not a competition," her mother addressed Frannie.

"That's funny coming from you two," Fred commented as he lifted his glass of water to his smirking lips. Quinn shot her grandfather an appreciative look. He winked at her mischievously. He put down the glass. "You said it yourself. It's a showcase, not a competition. Let Frannie do what she does best. If she wants to play Bach, whoever that is, let her play. It's a  _showcase_ , after all."

"That word is becoming a little too redundant for breakfast conversation," Russell said in annoyance.

Frannie's eyebrow twitched and Quinn could hear her mumbling, "You're the one who brought it up."

"However, we wouldn't want to let down all the important people at the showcase though, would we? What's the point of playing if you can't be perfect every single time? Isn't that what you always say, Daddy?"

"People, this room is pungent with useless arguments. I came here early this morning to make you breakfast. Don't you dare let it go to waste with me in the room," Mercedes interrupted from the kitchen doorway. "You can talk about all the useless piano stuff when you're done eating, but not now. You guy have to go to work and school. Eat up!"

* * *

Quinn invited Santana to run with her after school. Brittany was visiting some relatives in Florida, so she wasn't around. It was just the two of them. They blasted some David Guetta on the drive to the place where she usually ran.

It was sort of a forest, but not really a forest. There were a lot of trees. And birds. And squirrels. And there was probably a snake or two. Quinn had no idea and she didn't want to find out. Barely anybody come here to run because they deemed it too dangerous. She came here to run because it was dangerous. She wanted the adrenaline rush. When she heard somebody talking about it one day at Lima Bean a couple years ago, she immediately packed her things up and found the place. Since then, she came for a run every time she was free.

Quinn tightened the laces of her shoes and put on her cap. Santana spat the gum she was chewing and stood akimbo as she checked the not-forest out. A clear trail split the trees in the middle. She released a breathy chuckle and nodded, impressed.

"This is so cool," Santana muttered.

Quinn grinned. "Right?"

"Wanna race?" Santana asked, smirking at the blonde.

Quinn glanced at the trail and then back at Santana. She raised a brow and smirked in return. "Are you sure you're not gonna get lost?"

Santana shrugged. "There's cell service here, right?" Quinn nodded. "We're all set then."

"Okay," Quinn answered and they stood at the start of the trail. They stretched and got in position. "One, two…" And she took off.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you fucking bitch!" She could hear Santana yelled out loud behind her.

She laughed, running at full speed. When Santana was her competition, she couldn't allow herself to slack off. If Brittany was here, she would win due to her long legs dancer's agility, but they never could figure out who was the better runner between herself and Santana. Whenever they ran, they would either tie or trade off winning every other race.

It was annoying.

Quinn adjusted her cap and decided to rev it up when she heard the rapid pounding of Santana's footfalls just behind her. She laughed again when she heard her best friend curse at her with a bunch of Spanish expletives that she couldn't understand.

Quinn enjoyed this. She enjoyed spending alone time with her best friend. Without boys chasing her tail. Without homework. Without people gossiping. Without Brittany. It wasn't that she didn't like Brittany. She loved Brittany. But sometimes, she just wanted to spend time alone with her childhood best friend who'd been there with her ever since she was a toddler.

She slowed down slightly, allowing Santana to catch up before charging ahead, giggling in delight for having fooled Santana.

Her heart pounded in her chest; the beats reverberated in her ear. Sweat dripped down her skin. She was panting. She felt so relaxed and delighted. It was uplifting. She'd been craving company. She'd been yearning for a person to talk to, and she felt like she could finally talk it out today. With her best friend.

In no time, she reached the end of the trail. She stopped in the clearing at the end of the trail, which was occupied by wooden tables and benches. Santana caught up to her and she leaned against a tree trunk to catch her breath.

When she finally had enough air in her lungs, she surveyed the space and raised her eyebrows. "Impressive," she said, her voice a little weak. Quinn strolled towards one of the tables and gestured for Santana to follow her. They sat down opposite one another and took swigs from their water bottles. "So how come you're hanging out with me today instead of Miss Avery?"

"Because I miss you, silly." Quinn put the lid on her bottle and looked up at the clear sky. "Also, I think I'm getting over her."

Santana couldn't help but grin at the confession. She'd always been worried about Quinn. She was too smart; too smart to fall in love with people her own age because god knew people their own age were nowhere near as smart as Quinn. Quinn wore sadness like clothes. Santana never mentioned it but she could see it. She had often tried to stay by Quinn's side in her own way.

"The magic's gone?" she queried, leaning on her elbows.

Quinn shrugged and looked at her friend. "I guess." She had been doing her English homework the night before, and realized that level of fondness was gone. When she thought about Miss Avery, it just wasn't that feeling anymore. She was still fond of the teacher, but just not in  _that_  way. She didn't know how it happened.

Or maybe she did and she just didn't want to admit it.

"Good for you," Santana said. "I heard through the grapevine that Miss Skye Avery has a girlfriend."

Quinn stared at her, flabbergasted. Then she released a choking laugh and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god, I make such  _gay_  friends!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled by her palm. She drew back to see Santana laughing at her. "Seriously, am I a gay magnet or something?"

"Well, you are attractive. Like if it wasn't for Britts, I'd be all over you," Santana said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Quinn laughed in appreciation. "So, any idea how this thing you had for her is over?"

Quinn reached back to pull gently on her ponytail and leaned forward. She shrugged and shook her head.

However, Santana Lopez was her best friend. She would know even if Quinn was denying it. She sighed and looked Quinn in the eyes. "Here's an idea: someone below thirty, someone who hasn't graduated college."

Quinn winced and her fingers twitched. "Meh," she drawled. "No offers." The people at school were too dull. Her brain was filled up with poems and music and notes while theirs were filled with football and cheerleading and stupid crap. She couldn't find herself attracted to them. The only boyfriend she ever had had been back in eighth grade. And their first kiss wasn't even that great.

"McKinley boys are scared of you."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why I would date people who are scared of me."

"Okay, maybe scared isn't the right word. They're not familiar with you. I mean, you're basically an introvert. You don't talk to people. You only hang out with me and Britts and Puck and Finn. They don't even understand why Puck and Finn hang out with you. We eat alone and you don't join any extracurricular activities."

Quinn rolled her eyes and dropped her head on her arms across the table. Santana grabbed on one of her hands and played with her fingers. "My whole life had been an extracurricular. I'm tired."

Santana's heart ached at Quinn's words. She leaned down to kiss Quinn's hair and patted her back. "I know," she whispered. She was hesitant about her following words but she took the plunge anyway. "It's been five years, Quinn," Santana voiced. She rubbed Quinn's back when she felt her tense beneath her fingers. "Shouldn't you have let it go by now? Embrace your freedom, maybe?"

Quinn mulled over Santana's question for many long minutes. "Russell Fabray is my cage," she said, so softly that Santana had to struggle to hear her.

"No," Santana disagreed. She brushed Quinn's back and stared down at her. Quinn almost wanted to yell at her to not look at her like that; like she was damaged; like she was just looking for someone to save her.

Maybe she was.

" _You_  are your own cage." Quinn pushed herself upright abruptly and her eyes were glaring at her twitching fingers. "You need to get out, Quinn. By yourself. I can help you. Mercedes can help you." She paused but kept on. "Hell, even that new tutor of Frannie can help you. But we can't help you if you won't so much as make an effort."

"You know, I used to hear people tell me how they heard my sister on the radio last night and how I should tell her to keep at it and blah blah blah and I just –"

"They might as well have just said it, right?" Santana cut her off, raising her brows knowingly. " _Tell her to keep at it, and not quit, unlike some people_ ," she mimicked in a wheezy voice, tearing a giggle from her best friend.

Quinn sobered and nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think I wanna play." If Santana had two floppy dog ears, they would have been perked upright in that instant.

"Play…as in?"

"The piano."

Santana watched her and then said, "Does this sudden realization have anything to do with a certain older, attractive, female, piano playing  _homo sapien_?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and reached out to lightly smack Santana's arm. "Okay yeah, you're  _totally_  not a geek."

Santana fake gasped. "I certainly am not."

"Uh huh."

"Whatever. So, does it?"

Quinn tugged on the bill of her cap and pursed her lips. "I guess she plays a part in it. But…I think over the past eight years, the urge to play has always been there, but I just had it…buried deep down in the back of my mind." She flicked her nose. "I don't wanna compete, per se. I want to play. I want to sit down and play for myself and maybe sometimes for the people close to me. And maybe someday, I can compose or something."

"Wow, who is this woman? I wanna meet her." Quinn gave her a look. "No, seriously. She's made quite an impact on you. And you haven't even known her for long."

Rachel's face that night on the porch flashed through Quinn's mind. Her stomach flipped a little at the reminder of what she learned that night. She fought the shudder soaring through her body and maintained her composure.

"Please don't judge me for being attracted to her."

"Who am I to judge you?" Quinn smiled gratefully. "Well, whatever you want, I'll be here for you." She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "But I'd miss you if you leave. It's been awesome having you here with me for the last eight years. Don't leave me again."

Quinn grinned and stood up as well. "Never."

They raced back to the starting point.

* * *

Russell and Judy had to leave for a business conference in Hawaii in two days. They dropped the news on them at dinner. Quinn felt guilty for feeling elated at that. Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and she should be unhappy that they wouldn't be spending it as a whole family. Instead, the unhappiness didn't even make a quick visit.

"Can I invite Santana and the others for a sleepover?" Quinn asked before her parents left for the airport.

"I don't see why not. Just don't make a mess. And don't create trouble for Grandpa and Mercedes," Russell ordered. Quinn nodded in promise. Her father surprised her then when he put down his briefcase on the threshold and turned back to wrap her in a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself. And I love you."

Quinn's eyes watered. Well, hello, the-unhappiness-of-not-having-parents-for-Thanksgiving, aren't you a late little shit? She responded to the hug by tightening her arms around her father's torso. "I love you too."

And then they left.

She told Grandpa Fred and Frannie that she was going to do some homework and went up to her room. She stuck her headphones into her ears and put her playlist on shuffle and went on to work. She watched though her bedroom window as Rachel's car drove up the driveway. She stopped writing, the tip of her ballpoint poised over the paper.

Rachel got out of the car. She had half of her hair tied up in a ponytail and the rest falling down in curls over her shoulders. She made a move to sweep a lock of hair back. Quinn's throat went dry when she saw the short skirt the tutor was wearing, which displayed her legs in full view. She was caught in her leering when Rachel looked up and saw her.

 _As friends_ , Rachel's voice echoed in her head.

"As friends," Quinn muttered.

Rachel's eyes seemed to have darkened as they held each other's gazes, and Quinn was sure her eyes were no different. She clenched her thighs together and managed to smile at the tutor, unsure if she could see it. Quinn could only assume she had when Rachel smiled with a wave of her hand and proceeded up the driveway to the front door.

Quinn couldn't hear the bell because she had her headphones in. She closed her eyes and took a few deep calming breaths. She wouldn't allow a prolonged eye contact disturb her focus. She had homework. She needed to pass her year. She needed to graduate and go somewhere that was not Lima, Ohio.

She definitely did not need a raging attraction to a very beautiful person who was much older than her.

She breathed out harshly and opened her eyes. She rid all thoughts of Rachel from her mind and tried to focus on her homework as hard as she could.

Two hours later – normally it would've taken her only one but she was distracted – she found herself scooping handful of chips into her mouth in the kitchen. Mercedes was probably gallivanting in the cellar below doing whatever it was she usually did.

She giggled as she watched Mr. Bean stick his head inside a turkey on the television set in the kitchen.

"I never would have thought you'd be the kind to watch Rowan Atkinson."

Quinn yelped, fragments of chips flying out of her mouth, and turned around on her stool to see Rachel standing at the entrance to the kitchen with an amused smile tugging on her lips. She put a steadying hand on her chest and her breathing slowed down. She couldn't resist the urge to smile at Rachel. "You'd be surprised."

The brunette hummed but didn't move from under the arch. Quinn stayed on her stool, half her hand in the bag of chips. Time didn't pause. Pre-recorded laughter emitted from the television set. Mercedes was belting out some notes in the cellar. But somehow, it still felt like they were all alone.

"So how are you?"

Quinn shoved a couple of chips in her mouth and laughed with her mouth closed when Rachel rolled her eyes and moved into the room. "I'm okay," she said once she swallowed the chewed up chips.

Rachel tipped her brows and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Quinn replied with a smile. "Considering what's happened lately."

Rachel screwed the lid of the bottle and frowned at her. "And what's happened lately?"

She looked into the older woman's eyes and didn't hesitate when she said, "You." She figured they both knew of each other's feelings – however inappropriate – for each other. Why not just go for it? Rachel's expression froze. "My sister's piano tutor died and you came along and it messes my brain up in so many ways."

Something on Rachel's face shifted and her brows twitched. "I could say the same about you." Quinn's breath stopped for like a second and then Rachel took a napkin from the stack and took out a pen. Quinn frowned. Where did that even come from? Rachel scribbled something on the napkin and slid it across the island towards Quinn. "If you need to talk, call or text me. Because friends do that."

Quinn hummed, reading over the numbers scribbled across the paper.

"As long as you aren't driving," Rachel added.

"I'm confused," Quinn joked. "I'm not suicidal." They laughed mildly and Quinn held the paper up in the air. "And I will keep this in mind."

"Good." Rachel looked like she was about to say something else when Mercedes came up from the wine cellar. "Hey, Miss Jones. I better go. I'm on a payroll." She winked surreptitiously at Quinn and walked away.

The blonde smirked and tucked the paper into her jacket pocket, making a note to take it out later so she wouldn't wash it in the laundry. Then she turned back to the TV and fed herself more chips.

* * *

It had been more than a week since Rachel gave her number and Quinn had yet to call her. She wanted to. Every day. She would stare at the numbers for hours and still couldn't bring herself to call. Rachel said to talk to her when she was ready. And Quinn may want to play, but that didn't mean she was ready.

Thanksgiving was happening in two days. Quinn had invited Santana and Brittany and their families. Frannie had decided to invite to Rachel without consulting Grandpa Fred, not that Grandpa Fred would say no.

These days, she'd been spending her free afternoons sitting outside the music room, listening to her sister play. Thinking. Wondering. Deciding. Fantasizing. Rachel had caught her out there a few times but she didn't say a word. All she did was smile and nod in greeting before going back in. Quinn would listen to Rachel guide Frannie through her playing, unlike Mr. Ryerson's method of instruction only.

Quinn had more often than not been impressed with Rachel's method of teaching.

"No, don't do that. Don't just think about the steps. Think about the notes, the tone, the  _music_. Learn to understand the expression. Mess it up a little. There's nothing wrong with that. As long as you  _comprehend_."

Perhaps that was what Frannie needed.

Perhaps that would have been what  _she_  needed. Maybe she wouldn't have left the stage so easily if she had a teacher like Rachel. Or she might have come back even if her father had told her that it was the end in a definite tone. Perhaps she just needed the push that Rachel was offering right now.

* * *

She didn't know what did it. She had been walking across the street with Santana and Puck and she saw the grand piano sitting at the window of the music store and she had an epiphany. She went home and pulled the familiar napkin down from her bulletin board.

_Ready to talk. Friend to friend._

She hit  _send_  before she could regret it.

* * *

Frannie came into her room with another book in hand and Quinn nodded in agreement before she even asked the question. So Frannie flopped down onto her bed and started reading. Quinn went back to her third essay of the English assignment.

It'd been five hours since Quinn had texted Rachel. Yes, she counted. She felt like a lovesick fool waiting for a boy to just  _answer_  her. If only it was that simple though. Quinn took glances at her iPhone as she typed on her computer. She was a natural touch typist so she barely had to look at her keyboard while she did it.

Santana had always complained about it.

Quinn was almost done with it when her phone chimed and she scrambled for it across the desk. She could feel Frannie's eyes burning into her back. Quinn ignored it and opened the text.

_Wanna meet for coffee?_

She blinked. She'd expected a reply but she didn't expect  _that_ kind of reply. She didn't know if she should be excited or disturbed by the fact that Rachel wanted to meet her so late at night. She settled on being excited. She checked the clock sitting on her bedside table. Gosh, it was late. Though it was Saturday the next day so there would be no school.

She propped one of her elbows on the desk, her forehead supported by her hand. She considered her choices. Would it be inappropriate if she agreed? But they wouldn't be taking things to that level. They'd just be friends, talking about her confusion and her perplexity. That wouldn't be illegal, would it?

"Who's that?" Frannie finally asked, startling Quinn.

She'd almost forgotten that her sister was in her room. "Um…" Quinn stammered. "Rachel," she admitted.

Frannie frowned. "Why is she texting you?"

"Oh, I just had to talk to her…about something," Quinn evaded, flipping her phone in her hand nervously.

Frannie sat up in bed and surveyed her for a moment. Quinn squirmed in her seat. "It's about playing, isn't it?" Frannie said. Quinn's eyes widened. "Come on, Quinn, I know I've been kind of oblivious and secluded with practicing. And I know that everybody thinks that you're kind of like the older sister instead of me because of the way you take care of me and how I stay at home all the time."

"Frannie," Quinn protested.

The older Fabray shook her head with a sad smile. "I mean, I could've been out of here already and probably studying in Stanford if it wasn't for Daddy and Mom pressuring me into playing for this final showcase. I'm nineteen, for god's sake."

Quinn felt the guilt eating at her insides and she released a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

Frannie looked at her for a second and made a dismissing motion with her hand. "It's okay. I understand what you were going through. I think I would have done the same if I were you."

"Still."

"I think it's good," Frannie said with a nod. "You've been so lonely and so sad for eight years. I know you have friends and stuff, but I know you. And honestly, I had no idea how to help you. So I'm glad that Rachel might be able to help."

"You won't mind?"

Frannie chuckled and removed herself from the bed. She moved towards Quinn and wrapped Quinn in an awkward embrace. "Why would I? You're my sister. I love you."

"Thank you."

* * *

Rachel was already sitting in a secluded corner in Lima Bean when Quinn came in, wrapped up in a coat and scarf and her hands covered in mittens. It was cold outside. She waved at Rachel and went to the counter to make her order. When her drink was ready, she took it and headed towards Rachel.

"Hi," she greeted.

"You don't have curfew, do you?" was the first thing Rachel said.

"Shouldn't you have asked that before you invited me out for this drink?"

"I was anxious," Rachel argued.

Quinn cocked a brow and drank. "So what we were talking about…you know?" she drifted off.

Rachel smiled in amusement. "Yes, what we were talking about. The thing. On the stairs. In the kitchen. I'm following." Her eyes were twinkling. "Proceed."

Quinn wondered momentarily why she trusted Rachel. She just did, she guessed. "This is confidential, okay? You can't tell anyone. Frannie knows that I'm talking to you but you can't tell her anything that we talk about."

"Cross my heart," Rachel made a move of crossing her heart.

Quinn took a deep breath and drank more. "My grandmother died."

"I'm sorry."

"No," Quinn said and closed her eyes. She opened them again a moment later. " _My grandmother died_." Rachel blinked at her rapidly before it dawned on her, her mouth forming into an 'O'. "I have no idea how my father did it." She could see the confusion in Rachel's eyes. "Eight years ago, there was a competition in Chicago. And it was important. My grandmother was sick. She had lung cancer, which runs in my family. My mom stayed behind while Gramps and Daddy came with me."

Quinn still remembered vividly. How she'd reluctantly left Grammy's bedside to board the plane. She remembered how her father had snapped at her to get off her ass already because she wouldn't leave her grandmother. She remembered how her father wouldn't let her talk to Grammy on the phone and how he silenced Gramps with a glare when he looked ready to argue.

"They wouldn't let me talk to her. They told me she was okay and I believed them. Until the morning of the competition and I was sitting in front of the stage. I was up next, and Gramps came up next to me and knelt down. His eyes were red with tears." Quinn was tearing up and her throat felt clogged but she continued. "Grammy was in the ICU. There was something about sepsis and pneumonia and crap that I didn't understand, and I was about to go up and I felt like I was ready to break down because my grandmother was my frame and support in this whole mess because my parents were – and are – overachievers."

"Quinn, calm down," Rachel interrupted. "It's okay."

Quinn looked into Rachel's calm brown eyes and felt its effect on her. Her breathing slowed and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "And then I went up. My mind was blank white. There was nothing except for the fact that my grandmother was  _dying_."

 _Good girl_. Her father had whispered the phrase when she was walking up the stairs to the piano on the stage.

"I sat on the bench, my fingers on the keys, but all I could hear was my grandmother's voice in my head. And then I looked at my father and I remembered thinking how could a man could be so calm and not weeping when his wife's mother was dying. Great-grand uncle Oliver bought the piano and didn't get to play it. Lucy Quinn Fabray had to win a competition and couldn't say goodbye to her grandmother."

There was a momentary pause as she reminisced to eight years ago. Rachel watched her calmly and cautiously.

"I thought I could either stay there and not make a scene and play. Or I could make waves. Big ones. And then I saw how my hands didn't seem to belong to me anymore. They belonged to my father. And I wasn't going to play because I enjoyed it. I was going to play because my father was an overachiever. So I decided to do something for myself."

"You stood up and you walked out and it all ended there."

Quinn was quiet and then she inclined her head. "And it all ended there," she repeated.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry."

"My dad called me a self-entitled brat," she said with a humorless chuckle. "And he said in a very resolute tone that I had made my decision and it wasn't going to change. Ever. That's how I ended up quitting the piano."

"Quinn," Rachel called. She waited until Quinn met her eyes. "It's understandable. Your grandmother was the closest to you in your family and to have someone do that to you and omit the truth from you, it's enraging and devastating. You didn't get to say goodbye to your grandmother. And you're allowed to regret it. But you can't let it take over your life."

"I missed playing. I missed making music with my bare hands." Rachel smiled at Quinn's words. "I don't wanna be perfect or anything. I don't wanna compete. I just want to play the piano and feel it again. Maybe I'll have a future in music. But for now, I just want to play."

"You don't have to be perfect."

Quinn scoffed. "Tell that to my father."

"Why are we talking about him again?"

"Oops," Quinn said with an apologetic smile. "All I'm saying is…I think you can help me. Not as a tutor like you are to Frannie. I don't know. I saw a grand piano and I texted you. I guess it's kind of a half-baked idea."

"Sounds pretty simple to me."

"Does it?"

"When I told you we can talk as friends, it's not because I love the sound of my voice. Though I admit it's pretty amazing." Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel grinned. "You need a friend who gets it. And I want to be that friend."

Sincerity. Trust. That's what Quinn saw on Rachel's face.

"And if something more happens to happen in the future, then we just have to go with the flow."

Quinn's eyes bulged and she coughed. "You're thirty!"

"Twenty-nine," Rachel corrected.

"I'm seventeen!" Quinn said.

"Quinn." The blonde realized she loved the way Rachel said her name. The inflection and all. Shit. "This is the 21st century. It's turned into regularity."

"You do know this is kind of inappropriate, right? And my family would kill you if  _it_ happens."

Rachel smirked. "Your family adores me."

Quinn hummed and narrowed her eyes teasingly. "Some of them are still holding their judgment of you."

"I bet I'm on one of their payroll."

"You bet."

"I think I can handle it."

"Let's just quit while we're ahead, yeah?"

"That's what I was gonna say."

Quinn stood up and Rachel mirrored her movement. Quinn shrugged on her coat and stood outside next to Rachel. They drank in silence and watched the occasional pedestrian walking across the streets and along the sidewalk.

Quinn took a look at her watch and found that it was half past midnight already.

"I gotta go."

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

Quinn smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Oddly enough, Quinn really meant it. And Quinn knew Rachel meant it as well.

" _Lucy sweetheart, I'm gonna be gone someday. And you're going to have to go through this journey by yourself. But I promise you, sweetheart, that one day, you'll find a person who will be your best friend and your lover and everything else. When you do, know that I will be so happy for you."_


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Quinn's grandfather invited Rachel over for Thanksgiving dinner. Quinn had been pretending to read the newspaper when in actuality she was straining her ears to hear Rachel's answer. She was honestly disappointed when Rachel declined, but it was understandable. She was spending the day with her own folks.

Unable to shake the feeling as though someone was watching her, Quinn glanced up from her newspaper and met Rachel's eyes from over her grandfather's shoulder. Quinn smirked when she saw a mischievous glint there. She was sure that Rachel was thinking about their talk last night as well. She nodded and turned back to her newspaper.

It had been very late when she had finally gotten home the night before. Mercedes had already left and her sister was snoring in her bed. Grandpa Beck was in the study. She had hoped to sneak past him, but unfortunately was unable to escape the questioning about where she had been and why she didn't tell him that she was going out. She made up an excuse about Santana needing her help with some girl stuff and she left in a hurry. He bought it.

She didn't even bother to wake Frannie up when she found her sleeping in her room. Quinn had just smiled in adoration, changed as quietly as possible, and slipped in next to Frannie, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Her talk with Rachel hadn't exactly lifted the weight off her shoulders, but she did feel somewhat lighter. Maybe it was because she finally had someone to talk to. Or maybe it was just Rachel. That woman had done something to her mind and Quinn wasn't sure if she wanted to figure out what. She'd woken up and the first thing she'd thought about was the illicit statement Rachel had let so boldly pass the night before. 'Going with the flow' and all that.

Logically, she knew she should feel disturbed and unnerved by Rachel's audacity. After all, they were twelve years apart. It was more than what Quinn had thought to be their age difference. Also, there was also the fact that there was not as much of an age difference between them as she had originally presumed. And yet, she didn't feel the least bit disturbed. Instead, she was thrilled. She was even flattered. It was mind boggling.

Her fingers twitched again and she stared at them. Yet another side effect of meeting Rachel Berry. It was as if the older woman was a key, and she was the car it belonged to. Rachel had ignited a desire within Quinn so fierce that she had to fight the magnetic attraction to the piano room and just fucking play.

She may be attracted to playing now, but she was far from ready.

Quinn put down the newspaper, pulled out her phone and texted Santana to hang out. Santana replied positively moments after. Quinn chuckled and proceeded upstairs to change. She paused briefly by the piano room to listen Frannie play and Rachel coach. She listened to Rachel's words and smiled.

"Mess it up, Frannie. Mess it up. Soar and fly," Rachel said. Then she burst into the chorus of  _High School Musical's Breaking Free_. She had a beautiful voice.

This was one of the moments where Quinn stopped wondering why she was such a bug to Rachel's light.

* * *

"Trying to avoid Miss McOlder Piano Tutor today?" was the first thing Santana said when they met at Lima Bean.

Quinn rolled her eyes and shrugged her coat and scarf off. "I'm just trying to pass the time because it's Sunday and I've finished my homework."

Santana feigned offense and gasped. "Are you telling me I'm just a pastime?"

"Oh yeah, you're my favorite pastime ever. I figured that without Brittany around, you'd have all the time in the world."

"What makes you think that?"

"Oh, come on. I barely see you and Brittany apart. You guys are, like, attached at the hip. I'm surprised you're not bored of each other after seeing each other that much."

"Jealous?" Santana smirked.

"Nah," Quinn denied. "Just disgusted."

"We're just that sweet."

"Stop before I hurl, I beg you."

Santana laughed and leaned forward. "So what have you been up to?"

Quinn looked at Santana for a moment and shrugged. "We met for a drink last night. We were sitting right there." She pointed to the table they had shared the night before.

"You never listen to me, do you?"

Quinn cringed and smiled apologetically. "Not on this, no," she admitted. "I feel kind of bad but I can't help it. She's just…" Quinn hesitated and shrugged. "It's just instinct. The heart wants what the heart wants, after all."

"Understandable." Santana stared at her for a moment and released a breath. "I just hope you won't get in trouble for this odd fetish of yours."

"Thank you," Quinn said.

"You'll be okay, right?"

Quinn pondered Santana's question and what she had talked about with Rachel. She grinned and leaned forward to cover Santana's fist with her hand. "I'll be fine." Silence lingered between them before Quinn said, "Hey, you wanna sleep over?"

"What, like tonight?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't see why not. My parents are out of state. Dad gave the okay."

"Do you pity me because Brittany's not around and you thought I'd be bored out of my mind?"

"Well, aren't you?"

Santana stared at her for a long while and Quinn kept a straight face. Quinn knew Santana well. And she knew her best friend was just trying to keep the suspense up until she agreed. "Okay," Santana said as casually as possible.

Quinn grinned teasingly and nodded. "Great."

* * *

Frannie came to her room but didn't enter. Instead, she lingered at Quinn's door and knocked to get her attention. Quinn turned from her book and raised a brow at Frannie.

"I thought you'd want to talk to Rachel before she leaves," Frannie said.

Quinn stared at her, wide-eyed. She stammered and slowly crawled to a sitting position. "I…We talked last night." Frannie shrugged. Quinn narrowed her eyes. "What did you say to her?"

"Just…She knows that I know that she's helping you, in a way. And I asked her to wait and see if you'd want to talk to her." Then Frannie shrugged again. "It's up to you." She pointed over her shoulder. "But you gotta tell her to go yourself if you don't want to talk. I'm beat, and the stairs are exhausting to look at."

Quinn couldn't help but release a breathy laugh. She pondered her options and sighed. One way or another she still had to talk to Rachel, if only to get her leave. She pulled back the covers and stood up, adjusting her sweatpants and Yale hoodie that her father gave her.

"Thanks," Frannie said. Quinn didn't know what for and she didn't have the time to ask since Frannie left immediately after.

Quinn checked herself in the mirror and pulled a brush through her hair to tame it. Then she made her way downstairs to the piano room. Rachel was playing the piano. Quinn leaned back against the door panel, one foot propped against it and the other on the carpeted floor. She listened to Rachel play and couldn't recognize the music at the beginning. But then it clicked into her mind.

 _Turning Page_  by  _Sleeping At Last_.

Quinn watched as Rachel's fingers depressed the keys, playing one note after another. So slowly. So gracefully. Quinn was mesmerized with Rachel's grace and lithe. She licked her lips inadvertently and held her breath in.

It felt like her entire system had collapsed when Rachel started singing.

 _I've waited a hundred years, but I'd wait a million more for you_.

A shiver traveled its way over her body and she could barely keep from gasping. The lyrics were echoing in her ears and reverberating in her soul. The words pinged in her brain. She wondered if Rachel singing this song had anything to do with them.

And yet, it didn't make a lot of sense. Because they'd only met each other two weeks ago. Two weeks wasn't very long. 'A hundred years' would be exaggerating it a little bit, wouldn't it?

Quinn felt like she was intruding. It was impolite, eavesdropping on someone like this. Rachel probably didn't even mean for her to hear it. She loudly cleared her throat to overpower the sound of the piano and Rachel's mesmerizing voice.

Rachel jumped. For a second, Quinn was afraid that her back would snap in half with the speed that she spun around with on the bench. She smiled apologetically at the teacher, and walked towards the woman. She sat next to Rachel, leaving just a few inches of space between them.

"Why aren't you a singer instead?" Quinn asked after a long pause. "You have an extraordinary voice."

Rachel looked down and smiled shyly. "Thank you." She ran her fingers across the keys. "I  _was_  a singer."

Quinn frowned. "Was?"

Rachel looked back up at the blonde and nodded. "I was. Until I wasn't anymore."

"Is there a story behind that?"

The brunette chuckled. "Everyone has a story, Quinn," she said. "And there really is no judging which story's better and which story's worse." She chuckled again when she saw Quinn's expectant. "Don't feel sorry when I tell you."

Quinn nodded in acquiescence.

"I was engaged when I was 17." Rachel didn't look at Quinn as she talked. "He was…I loved him. So much. He was handsome and kindhearted. He was a little dim and he could be selfish at times. But I still loved him. It was a long engagement. I went to NYADA. He enlisted in the army without telling me. I was so angry at him." She chuckled. "Turns out he's capable of shooting himself in the thigh while cleaning his own gun."

"What?" Quinn remarked in an incredulous tone.

Rachel looked up with a grin and said laughingly, "Yeah. So he came back and we lived together for like two months. He was miserable. New York City just wasn't for him. He wanted to come back to Lima. And I was so foolishly in love that I dropped out of NYADA and came home with him." Rachel was silent for a few seconds. "I don't even know what I was thinking eleven years ago."

"What happened then?" Quinn probed.

Rachel took a deep breath and pressed on a key. The tone rang throughout the room. "We got married in a private ceremony. Trust me; our parents were not happy about it. And eventually, I stopped…singing. I just…The passion vanished. My dreams to become a Broadway star like Barbra Streisand were gone. I think it was because I couldn't place any role in any local musical production initially and I just gave up. We lived in a one-bedroom house. He worked at his father's workshop. I got into teaching piano. We pretty much lived paycheck to paycheck. Enough to get by, not enough for anything else.

"After one year of marriage, he wanted a baby. And I didn't. I wasn't even 20 and I wasn't ready to take care of a child and god, we barely had the money to support ourselves! How were we going to support a baby on top of that?" Rachel's eyes began watering and Quinn hesitantly laid a comforting hand on Rachel's back.

"And?"

"We had tons of arguments. He insisted on a baby and I didn't want one. One day, I came back home from a lesson and found out he threw away my contraceptive pills."

Quinn frowned. "What the hell?"

"I was so angry at him I kicked him out to the living room. Our sex lives came to a grinding halt and I wasn't even unhappy about it. And then I realized…I realized I didn't love him anymore. Not in that way. It felt like we were just sharing a house and the bills and everything. We didn't talk. We didn't cuddle. We didn't hang out. We just worked and came home and ate and watched some TV and went to sleep. It was such a boring routine. And I decided I had had enough and I proposed a divorce. Surprisingly enough, he agreed to it without much of a fight. We both knew that our feelings for each other had changed into those of friendship."

Rachel stopped after that. Quinn licked her bottom lip. She removed her hand from Rachel's back and turned in her seat slightly so she could face Rachel fully. "Why didn't you go back to singing after that?"

The brunette stared at her for a moment and she just shook her head with a shrug. "I don't know. I guess after what happened with him, I was too scared to go out into real life?" she said. "Getting married turned me into a coward."

They looked at each other before Quinn said, "I don't know if I should be happy that you didn't go back to singing and Broadway and all that jazz."

Rachel frowned. "Why?"

"Because if you had gone, I wouldn't have met you. And I probably would be in a funk for the rest of my life," Quinn stated softly.

The older woman contemplated her statement and smiled. "If it was meant to be, then we would meet one way or another."

"Do you believe in that stuff? Meant to be?"

Rachel brushed her hair back and propped her elbow on the keys – playing a messy tune at once – chin in her hand. "I didn't after I got divorced." She turned to look at Quinn and continued, "But I don't know anymore."

The blonde avoided her eyes and looked down at the black and white keys. She placed her fingers on top of them and ran her fingers across the ridges. How long had it been since she'd last sat here? So long. The black and white keys glared at her. Her father's voice rang in her head. She could almost feel the warmth of her grandmother's loving embrace. Her middle finger was yearning to push down and play a tune. Her heart wasn't allowing her to.

"You don't have to do it if you're not ready, Quinn. Take however long you want."

Quinn snatched her hands away from the keys and stood up abruptly. Her chest felt constricted and she realized she couldn't breathe. She spun around to the window and supported herself by laying her hand on the window surface. Everything was in a blur and buzz. She heard static. She saw colors.

" _You self-entitled brat!"_

Her vision went black but she knew she was still conscious. She went down on her knees and clutched at her chest. She coughed. And then, she keeled forward until she was curled into a ball on the floor. She was crying.

Someone was brushing her hair back and stroking her back. She felt her upper body being lifted and placed onto a higher surface. The static eventually faded and her vision came back. She saw Rachel's worried face right in her sight. Frannie was there too. Rachel was instructing her to take steadying breaths. And she followed. She breathed until she could  _breathe_.

Meanwhile, Frannie was kneeling on the other side of her. That was when she realized her head was on Rachel's lap. She blushed imperceptibly.

"You're okay. You're fine. You don't have to force yourself," Rachel asserted repeatedly. It was as if she was trying to make herself believe that. "You're okay. You're fine. You don't have to force yourself."

Quinn's throat was dry and she swallowed a few mouthfuls of saliva. Then her eyes diverted to her sister who looked worried sick about her. "Hey, Q," Frannie whispered and she leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. "You're okay, okay?"

The younger Fabray nodded and when she felt good enough, she pushed herself to a sitting position. She was somewhat thankful that her grandfather was out and Mercedes was too far away to hear them. She looked at her sister questioningly.

"I was passing by to go to the kitchen and I saw you falling to your knees," Frannie explained.

Quinn nodded in understanding. She cleared her throat. "Thanks," she addressed Rachel.

Rachel still looked worried. "I didn't do much."

Quinn surveyed her before repeating, "Thanks."

They helped her to her feet. She saw that the piano lid was shut. She shrugged them off when they intended to support her as she walked. "I'm fine," she reassured them. "It was…it was just a panic attack."

"You sure made us panic a great deal," Frannie commented.

Quinn smiled at that and together, they headed to the living room. Quinn was just settled on the armchair when the doorbell rang. She groaned, remembering that Santana was coming over for their sleepover. Frannie went to answer the door for her.

Rachel hovered over Quinn, her bag slung on her shoulder. Her eyes roamed over Quinn, making sure that the younger woman was okay.

"I am fine," Quinn insisted.

Rachel pursed her lips and sighed. "Just…call me if you need anything, alright?" she offered.

Quinn nodded. "I will. Thanks."

There was a pause when Santana appeared behind Rachel, her eyes wild. She brushed past Rachel and sat on the arm of the chair Quinn was sitting on. "Frannie told me you had a panic attack," Santana muttered. She brushed her hand over Quinn's forehead, brushing her hair back. Then she held Quinn's cheeks in her hands.

Quinn rolled her eyes and reached up to tear Santana's hands off her. Rachel was watching them with curiosity and a hint of jealousy. Quinn felt sort of smug at it. "Santana, I'm fine," Quinn reassured her best friend. "Stop being such a mother."

Santana slapped her on the arm and Quinn yelped. "Excuse me for worrying over my best friend!" she exclaimed.

The blonde smiled and sighed. "Sorry, sorry," she muttered. Then she stood up and put herself between Rachel and Santana. "Santana, my dear best friend, this is Rachel Berry." She gestured at the piano tutor. "Rachel," she turned to the woman, "meet Santana Lopez."

Rachel smiled politely and held a hand out. "Nice to meet you, Santana."

Santana shook it and Quinn knew she was using strength by the look on Rachel's slightly pained face. Quinn was ready to stop her when she saw her best friend glance over Rachel's shoulder. She followed her gaze and saw her sister standing behind Rachel.

"Ah, it's you in the flesh!" Santana drawled and chuckled. They released each other's hands.

Rachel's jaw was clenched even though she was still smiling. "You know me?"

"Quinn's talked about you. She put you on a very high pedestal," Santana said.

"Okay!" Quinn interrupted loudly and moved between Rachel and Santana. Clearly her best friend decided to not bring her filter along today. She glared at Santana and considered punching the girl when she shrugged. She spun around to face Rachel with a genuine smile. "Rachel, it's been nice talking to you. Don't worry about what happened. I'm fine. And it's not your fault. I just…wasn't ready."

"Take it slow," Rachel said. Quinn nodded in assent. The older woman touched her forearm briefly before leaving, Frannie at her tail.

Quinn whirled around and smacked Santana's on the arm. "What the hell was that?" she seethed.

Santana stuck her tongue out mischievously, not caring one bit that Quinn had hit her pretty hard. "I was just making conversation," she forced out between giggles. "She's cute. I can see why you're attracted to her."

"For god's sake, Santana! My  _sister_  is here!" Quinn gritted out.

Santana fell down to the armchair Quinn was sitting in and held a hand out in peace. She was still laughing, though. Quinn groaned in frustration and sat down on the couch, watching Santana laugh helplessly. Frannie came back from showing Rachel out. She jumped as Santana's laughter went to shrieking levels at her appearance.

Quinn buried her head in her hands. She could feel another attack coming on. Except this time it wouldn't be a panic attack. It would be a heart attack because her best friend was a bitch.

"What's so funny?" Frannie asked, sitting next to Quinn.

Quinn shook her head and leaned back tiredly. She waved her hand limply. "Just leave her be." She closed her eyes and listened to Santana's laughter dissolve into giggles.

"Are you sure you're doing okay?" Frannie asked in the meantime.

Quinn nodded. She didn't even bother to open her eyes. "Yeah, like I said, I just wasn't ready."

"You shouldn't have forced yourself."

"I wasn't. I didn't force myself. I just…I was looking at the keys and my fingers just went on top. But I couldn't play. It kind of felt like if I pressed down on the keys and played; I would get sucked down into hell or something. It felt like doomsday. And the next thing I know, I couldn't breathe and everything was in a mess."

"Did Rachel, in any way, make you do it?" Frannie asked.

"No!" Quinn exclaimed, albeit softly. "She was the one who told me I didn't have to do it if I wasn't ready."

"Well, I guess she's not so bad." They turned to look at Santana. They were too absorbed in their conversation to notice that she'd stopped laughing. "I approve."

"There's  _nothing_  for you to approve of," Quinn snapped.

The edge of Santana's lips twitched. "There kinda is," she said.

Quinn groaned again. "Just shut up."

"Rachel's wonderful," Frannie added. "Honestly, I've been kind of pissed at Mom and Dad for making me defer from Stanford and play. I'm nineteen for god's sake. Nobody goes to university at nineteen!"

"Blow their minds when you're there," Santana said with a smile. "Just remember. Just one month and you can get out of here. Your parents can't stop you."

"You're influencing my sister with your bad advice. Shut up," Quinn instructed jokingly. She turned to her sister. "Just one month and you can get out of here. Mom and Dad can't stop you anymore."

"That's what I said!" Santana claimed.

They laughed. "Well, I'm going to my room. Gramps should be back soon. Call me when it's dinnertime," Frannie stated, standing up.

"Hey, Fran?" Frannie stopped in her steps and looked at Quinn. "Don't tell Gramps about any of this, okay?"

Frannie nodded. "Okay." Then she walked up the stairs, leaving Quinn and Santana alone.

Quinn closed her eyes again. She could feel Santana burning holes into the side of her head from the armchair. "You were going to play?" Santana asked.

"Where did you leave your filter today?" Quinn retorted a sarcastic question.

"I flushed it down the toilet," Santana snarked smoothly. "So, you were going to play?" she repeated.

Quinn contemplated the question. Was she? "I don't know," she answered vaguely.

Thankfully, Santana accepted the answer and didn't ask any follow-up questions. "Rachel seems nice," she commented. Quinn smiled at that comment. "She's cute too. The picture you showed me didn't do her justice."

"You have Brittany."

"Jeez, Quinn. I'm just saying she's cute. No need to get all green-eyed at me."

Comfortable silence fell between them; Quinn with her eyes closed and Santana sitting there playing Quinn's fingers. Eventually, Quinn fell asleep.

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Grandpa Fred came home and Mercedes announced that dinner was ready. They gathered at the dining table and enjoyed Mercedes' cooking. Grandpa Fred asked all the usual questions parents asked whenever their children invited their friends over.

Santana answered all of Grandpa Fred's questions politely and amicably. If Quinn didn't know her, she would have assumed that Santana was a nice kid with a wholesome family background and contributed to the charity events and never bullied her siblings.

Nobody blurted a word about Quinn's panic attack just an hour ago.

When they were done eating, Grandpa Fred slinked into the study. Frannie invited them to a poker game and they sat at the dining table to play a few hands. Unsurprisingly, Santana won most of them.

They bade goodnight when it was bedtime. Quinn and Santana lay on the bed side by side, lights turned off. The room was dark and Quinn was glad for Santana's companion.

"When is Brittany coming back?" Quinn asked in the dark.

"Tomorrow." Quinn could hear the smile in her voice. "She won't make it to school, obviously. But they estimated that they'll be back before sunset."

Quinn felt slightly melodramatic at that. "When do you reckon we'll hang out like this again?"

"We can hang out like this anytime, Quinn."

Quinn laughed. "Yeah right, you're so absorbed with Brittany you barely have any time to spare for me," she said bitterly. "I'm happy for you, really. I'm glad you found someone you love so much. And I predict you and Brittany would last a lifetime. I do love Brittany. But you know, you and I, we've known each other for more than a decade," she stressed.

Santana didn't say anything for a moment. Quinn then felt her grabbing her hand. "I'll be here for you, always. I love Brittany and everyone else. But you're my best friend. And I wouldn't dare to imagine not having you in my life. You can talk to me anytime you want to. Hell, you can even talk to Brittany. This might surprise you but Brittany actually has quite a lot of great advice at hand."

Quinn grinned. "Oh really?"

"Yeah!" Santana said with a laugh. "So don't worry. We will all stick by you no matter how."

"Promise?"

"Promise promise."

"Good."

Another long moment of silence before Santana shattered it. "Tell me something." Quinn hummed. "Are you falling for this Rachel person?"

Quinn was slightly taken aback but she took it in stride. "I am." She turned her head to look at Santana, even though she couldn't actually see her. "Is that wrong?"

Santana hummed and Quinn heard her shrug. "Love is love," Santana said. "Does she feel the same?"

Quinn wondered. Did Rachel feel the same?

She remembered their talk earlier in the piano room. She remembered the way the piano tutor was looking at her. She remembered how she looked as she poured her heart out to Quinn. She remembered the jealousy in Rachel's eyes when she was watching her and Santana's interaction. She especially remembered the gentleness in her movements whenever she touched her.

"I'm pretty sure she does."

The Latina hummed again. "I guess I need to talk to her."

Quinn released a helpless chuckle. "Santana," she whined.

"Shush, Q. You're my best friend. I'm just doing my duty as a best friend."

Quinn sighed exasperatedly. "Fine. Just don't be too hard on her."

"I'll try."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

* * *

Next morning, when Santana was in the shower and they were preparing for school, Quinn saw a text from Rachel. It was sent five minutes after she had fallen asleep.

_Your friend has a pretty strong grip. – Rachel x_

Quinn smiled.

 _Correction: Best friend. She's just crazy that way. But she's amazingly wonderful._  –  _Quinn x_

_"Lucy sweetie, don't ever think that you'll do fine on your own. Make friends. Make best friends! Talk to them; laugh with them. Because when the time comes, they'll be the only ones there for you. Appreciate them. And you'll never have to live a lonely life."_


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn couldn't help but laugh at how adorable Santana was, squealing at the sight of Brittany sitting on her doorstep. Quinn hadn't even properly parked her car yet when Santana unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of the car, running towards her girlfriend and jumping into her arms.

Quinn finished parking her car in Santana's driveway and got out. She hugged Brittany tightly because she missed the dancer too. "Thank God you're back. Your girlfriend has been such a fuss while you were gone," Quinn quipped.

Santana wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist and flicked Quinn's nose. "Oh yeah? Who was the one who slept over at your place because you wanted company?" Santana reminded her best friend.

Quinn frowned. "Who?"

The Latina's eyes widened in a fake glare. "Whatever. Now that Brittany's back, you can go back to being all by your lonesome and just wallow because I'll be too busy getting laid." Quinn fake gagged. Santana smirked. "And maybe you might even get lucky with Berry," her voice took on a teasing tone.

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Santana shrugged. "Are you staying or are you going back home?"

"Please stay," Brittany whispered. "I missed you guys a lot."

Quinn knew fighting was useless. What Brittany wanted Brittany got. Besides, she was pretty sure that Santana was shooting laser eyes at her right now, daring her to even try and say no. So she nodded with a smile.

"I'll stay."

* * *

She came back home to the sight of a giant uncooked turkey laying on the kitchen island, and gasped in surprise. Mercedes' head emerged from the top of the island and she chuckled at Quinn's face. The girl took a seat on one of the stools and pushed the stuffing towards Mercedes when she asked for it.

She propped her chin in her palm and watched their housekeeper stuff the turkey. Mercedes glanced up a few times from the turkey, waiting for Quinn to speak. Finally, she stopped what she was doing when Quinn hadn't started a conversation, and sat on a stool herself. She looked at Quinn questioningly.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" she asked.

Quinn turned to the woman and raised her brows. "What do you mean what am I doing here? It's my house."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and resumed stuffing the turkey. "I meant why are you here when you can be out there hanging out with your friends. Where's Santana?"

"Brittany came home. I'm just coming home from hanging out with them now. I figured I should leave them alone so they could have their own reunion ceremony, if you know what I mean," she said with a smirk.

Mercedes gaped at Quinn for a second. "Don't ever let your parents hear you speak like that," she warned.

"I know."

They were content with the quiet and Quinn actually jumped slightly when the sound of piano drifted into the kitchen. Quinn's brow perked. She didn't know Rachel was here. Given that she'd come in through the backdoor, it shouldn't be a surprise. She listened to the pauses and the resumes of the piano playing. Sometimes, she could hear Rachel singing playfully.

"I don't know much about piano," Mercedes started, making Quinn turning to look at her, "but I can hear that your sister's loosened up a lot in her playing. It feels more…relaxed and carefree now. Unlike when she was with Mr. Ryerson, it sounded as if she was being forced to play at gunpoint."

"Yeah, I guess we kind of lucked out in finding Rachel." Mercedes stared at her for a moment, her hand still in the turkey's…ass. Quinn grimaced. "Can you...?" she gestured with her hands at Mercedes' hand. Mercedes removed her hand. "Thank you."

Mercedes didn't stop staring at her. After a few long and quiet moments, Quinn started to feel sort of uncomfortable. She squirmed in her seat but kept eye contact with the woman. "Quinn, I'm going to ask you something and I hope you'll be honest with me." Quinn nodded as a gesture for her to continue. "Is there something going on between you and Rachel?"

She stiffened in her seat. Her wide eyes darted from the turkey to Mercedes. Dozens of questions instantly emerged in her mind, jumbled into a mess. She was pretty sure a few beads of sweat were sliding down her temples in her anxiety.

"Quinn," Mercedes said, her voice in a calming tone. She covered one of Quinn's hands with her own and smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. You didn't do anything. She didn't do anything. I'm just very observant." That did not make Quinn feel any better. "It may not be the norm for people who are more than ten years apart to get together." Quinn blushed. "But if you really like her and she reciprocates your feelings, I don't see anything wrong with it."

The blonde swallowed. "Really?" She didn't realized how nervous she actually was until she heard herself sounding like a wounded puppy.

The housekeeper made a face that screamed 'Of course!'. "Really, Quinn. Besides, I've watched you growing up for seventeen years. Since  _the_ incident, you've stopped being happy. And I've been sitting here waiting for something or someone to happen so that I can hear that sweet laugh of yours again. And baby girl, you have no idea how much I miss seeing you  _genuinely_  laughing."

"I still haven't laughed much," Quinn remarked.

Mercedes nodded in agreement. "That is true. But, you've  _laughed_." Mercedes grinned. "Honestly, I was quite surprised when I heard it, but I was also glad. After some time, I made a few deductions myself and started observing. And I'm quite certain that Rachel Berry has something to do with this gradual change in your behavior."

Quinn recounted the things that had happened since Rachel's appearance in her life. She couldn't say that the woman had turned her life entirely upside down. However, she had somehow managed to turn it sideways.

"I'm going to be eternally grateful to her for bringing that laugh of yours back."

Quinn jumped down from her stool and rounded the island to give Mercedes a giant bear hug, disregarding her stained hands and all that. "I love you," Quinn said.

"You're my sweet girl, Quinn." Mercedes patted Quinn's back, staining her white jacket with turkey stuffing. When they released each other, she held onto Quinn's hands. "Just be careful. I can't imagine how accepting your father will be once he finds out." Quinn froze again. Mercedes squinted. "You never thought about telling your folks?"

"I didn't think anything would happen despite everything," Quinn admitted. "I mean, they would never approve of it. And god, 'Cedes, she's  _twelve_  years my senior."

Mercedes stared at her for a second. "Sit down, young lady," she instructed. Quinn obeyed. "Let's just forget about her age for the time being," she began. "Now, from what I've gathered, you genuinely like her, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I know your father has been aloof and strict with you; more so than ever since the incident."

"I quit playing, 'Cedes. You can say it," Quinn interrupted.

Mercedes eyed her and nodded. "Okay, fine. What I'm trying to say is that even though your parents haven't been the best parents for the past five years, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to know that you've finally found someone who makes you happy. Sure, they will probably  _flip_  at first. However, all in all, you are their daughter and they keep your best interests in mind, even though they're doing it the wrong way."

"Rachel could go to jail if anything ever happens," Quinn said.

"But something  _has_  happened," Mercedes answered. Quinn knew she was telling the truth. "And you can't stop time from moving forward. You can't stop the feelings from developing any further until next year. The world doesn't work that way. The heart wants what the heart wants."

Quinn groaned and covered one of her eyes with her hand. "She's…helping me, in a way, with the piano," Quinn said.

"I like her more and more now."

Quinn chuckled and removed her hand. "She's marvelous." Mercedes smiled when she saw the bright look on Quinn's face. Now that she thought of it, the girl seemed to always have this particular look whenever Rachel was the topic of their conversation. "She's brave and beautiful and so patient. She didn't push me. She was like Mr. Schuester in a way and yet she  _wasn't_. She was gentle and I  _know_  she just wants me to enjoy being myself. She's helping me to loosen up and she makes me feel like I don't have to be afraid anymore."

Saying all these words, Quinn ultimately recognized that Rachel had unknowingly become the force behind her recent liveliness. Mercedes had recognized the idea that Quinn's mind had refused to acknowledge. Now that she had said it out loud, it'd dawned upon her.

Her eyes darted towards Mercedes. "Oh gosh," she exclaimed.

Mercedes only patted her hand and nodded. "I see part of your future already."

* * *

She pretended to be asleep when Frannie came into her room. She recognized the sound of Frannie's footsteps and flopped face down on the bed, as if she was playing dead. She heard Frannie lightly knocking the door and ignored it. When Frannie left, she opened her eyes.

For some reason, she didn't want to see Rachel today. It wasn't as if she couldn't. She just wouldn't. She remained in her position and stared at the doorway. She laughed at herself; at the irony of the situation. She didn't want to see Rachel but she wanted Frannie to come back and ask her.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she thought.

She counted the seconds in her head. Fifteen minutes later, she heard the front door closing. Two minutes later, a car door was being opened and slammed closed. Forty-seven seconds later, a car engine was revved to life and she could hear the wheels rolling down their graveled driveway.

As if someone had pushed a button, a surge of energy rushed through her and she jumped off the bed, running towards the window and managing to see Rachel's car turning towards the road. As it so happened, Rachel's eyes were locked on her window which was how they found their gazes meeting the second she'd appeared at the window.

Rachel let the car roll to a stop and let it idle, alive and in the middle of their driveway. They didn't do anything, just stared at each other. Rachel was obviously worried about her. Quinn smiled softly, inclining her head. Rachel nodded in return, holding up a hand against the steering wheel.

The car started moving again. Eventually, it went out of sight.

Quinn moved away from the window and jumped when she saw Frannie standing at her door with a questioning look on her face. She sat in the chair behind her.

"I saw you sleeping," Frannie stated, moving into her bedroom.

"I just woke up," Quinn reasoned. "Just in time to say goodbye to Rachel."

The older sister scrutinized her and then hummed. "Wanna go out for a drink?" she asked.

Quinn looked at the clock and shook her head when she saw the time. "I'm about to go for a run," she said with an apologetic smile. "Next time, maybe?"

"Okay."

* * *

Drops of sweat rolled down her skin as if a tap had been turned on.

_Do you still play? For fun, I mean. For yourself._

Her feet pounded on the path, winding through the woods.

_Quinn Fabray, now you!_

Quinn felt like her heart pounded a little harder as she heard Rachel's voice echoing in her head. She recalled how stunned and scared she was. She recalled how she reacted like a coward and slunk out of the room.

_You, Lucy Quinn Fabray, never play._

Rachel was right. She had never  _played_. Her hands had belonged to her parents the moment she turned five and her father made her play the piano. Her passion for music had increasingly shrunk as she kept playing. Eventually, she became her parents' puppet.

Until her grandmother died.

_You're more than welcome to talk to me. As friends._

It still surprised her sometimes when she remembered that Rachel returned her feelings. Her breath came out in harsh whooshes.

_You don't have to be perfect._

_If something happens to happen in the future, then we just have to go with the flow._

_If it was meant to be, then we would meet one way or another_.

She went off trail, as always, and ran in full speed towards the edge of the cliff – her private haven. She stopped just a foot from the edge and bent forward, supporting herself on her knees, panting. She reached up and tugged on the bill of her cap and stood upright, looking over the town and the dim sky and breathing in the fresh air.

She then sat down, her legs folded. She listened to the occasional bird chirping, the light sounds of the cars honking down below and her own pounding heart. She shivered when wind breezed past her and she tugged her jacket tighter around her. She drew her knees up and propped her chin on it.

She wondered if Rachel would like it if she brought her here.

* * *

Quinn checked her phone when she returned home and found that her parents had called her. She untied her shoes one-handed as she held the phone to her ear with the other. Russell had only just picked up when she put her shoes in the walk-in closet and put on her slippers.

"Hey, Daddy," she greeted when he picked up. She made her way towards the kitchen.

"Quinn," her dad addressed. She rolled her eyes slightly. Her dad had never made an effort to actually greet his family. "Why didn't you pick up?"

She grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "I was out running. You could've called Gramps or Frannie," she said.

"I did."

She raised a brow. "Oh. So I'm guessing you don't need me anymore?"

"Just because I've talked to your sister doesn't mean I don't wanna talk to you either," Russell deadpanned. She walked up the stairs, keeping quiet. "What have you been up to?" he asked after a few moments.

"Nothing," she replied.

_I talked to Rachel Berry and we're somewhere between friends and more-than-friends. Oh! I tried to play the piano but I realized I wasn't ready because you did quite the damage on me, so I had a panic attack and in turn, Frannie and Rachel panicked too. It's not exactly nothing but it's not like I can tell you that._

"Nothing," she repeated.

There were a few more moments of awkward silence. "How's school?" he asked.

She went into her room and put the bottle on her desk and leaned against it, frowning. "Why the sudden interest in my life, Daddy?" she queried.

"I-" he stuttered. She almost gasped because holy crap, Russell Fabray just stuttered. "You're my daughter, Quinn. Is it wrong for me to ask about your life?"

Quinn was suspicious of his motives but she let it go. She figured he had a point, even though it was sort of odd for him to express interest after barely caring for so long. "It's good. I'm managing pretty well for senior year."

"Glad to hear that," Russell commented.

More awkward silence ensued. She tapped the desk rhythmically with her fingers. "How are you, Daddy?"

"I'm fine," he quickly replied. "You know, been busy with work stuff. It's why I didn't call until today. Your mother is out for lunch with your uncle. You want me to tell her anything?"

"Just tell her I said hi."

"Okay."

She scratched her temple and breathed out harshly through her nose. "Is there anything else you want, Daddy?"

"How's Frannie been doing with her playing?" he asked.

There it was. The real question he'd wanted to ask since the beginning of their conversation. She should have known. Why did she even bother to entertain the idea that he was somewhat interested in her life? She rolled her eyes at herself.

"Are you asking for my opinion?" she questioned.

"Quinn –"

"It's fine," she interrupted. She didn't need to hear any more excuses. "I know I may not be a professional and it probably doesn't mean anything, but it's fine.  _I_ think Frannie's doing fine. Rachel's been teaching her well.  _I_ think you don't need to worry about them."

"There's no need for the attitude, Quinn."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm really tired, Daddy. If you don't need anything else, I'm gonna hang up now."

She was about to remove the device from her ear. "Quinn, wait!" She paused. She listened to him sighing and groaning quietly. "Quinn, listen. Just because you've been…Just because you disappointed me five years ago," he paused. She just wanted to hang up. Because she knew. He'd been blabbering about how much she disappointed him the minute she walked off the stage. "You're still my daughter. And I'm still proud of you." She froze in place. "That's it," he ended.

She didn't know what to say, so she said the only thing she could think of. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"What do you want me to say, Daddy?"

"Quinn."

"Dad." She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Say hi to Mom for me."

He knew that it was the end of the conversation. They were too much alike. They were both stubborn and prideful. Their similarities probably ruined their relationship as father and daughter. "Alright," he relented. "Bye."

She hung up without saying another word and dumped her phone on the desk. She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. She studied the pattern on the carpet and she counted the number of ovals in a square and she didn't  _think_ about everything that Russell had told her on the phone just two minutes ago.

Her father had ceased having deep talks with her five years ago. They never had an actual conversation that didn't involve Frannie and her playing. She had gotten used to it. She figured that having her dad send an appreciative word her way was probably too farfetched and she just stopped wishing for it.

And then today, he had to come out of the blue and say those words: words that she used to long for and stopped longing for; words that she'd never heard anyone but Grandpa Fred, Miss Avery and Mercedes said for five years; words that had most certainly taken her aback by a milestone.

She was angry at Russell. She was angry at him for not putting her feelings into consideration. She was angry at him for being so selfish. She was angry at Russell Fabray for thinking that she would just naturally squeal and jump into his arms and broadcast her joy to the entire world after stone cold silence for so many years.

But most of all, she was angry at herself for even having a hint of excitement when she heard her father said those things.

What had been the catalyst? What drove Russell to say those things? Did he talk to someone? Did someone talk to him? Did she do something? If so, what did she do?

It wasn't in Russell's nature to just knock down the walls he had built himself and simply throw those words around as if they were no big deal. Because they might not be a big deal to others, but they meant a big deal to both Quinn and Russell Fabray.

Her parents – her father – had damaged her to such an extent that she didn't know how to absorb nice things from them.

* * *

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Mercedes had always made it into sort of a tradition to serve light dishes on the day before Thanksgiving, so they didn't eat too heavily today. When they were done, Frannie wanted to practice more. Grandpa Fred invited Mercedes along to listen.

They sat on the sofa while Quinn stood to the side, her back against the wall and her arms crossed. As she listened as a legit audience instead of a girl sitting outside the door eavesdropping, she realized how much Rachel had done to naturalize Frannie's playing. She also knew, not that she was being vain, that Frannie would never be as good as her.

Quinn could see her sister sneaking glances at her as she played, one piece to another. She dutifully smiled but refused to say anything. She clapped when Frannie stood up and took a bow. They bade goodbye to Mercedes who left when her husband got here. They bade goodnight to Frannie who called it a night, leaving Quinn and Grandpa Fred alone.

"Do you miss it?" he asked.

She stared ahead at the bench that Frannie had just vacated. "Miss what?"

She could feel his skeptical eyes on her. "Playing," he finally said.

Her chest lifted and dropped with a dramatic breath. "Why do you ask?" Her parents had also turned her into a master at evading.

"Because I miss it."

She frowned, then slowly turned her head to look at her grandfather. "You've never played, Gramps."

"No, I have never," he said truthfully with a nod. "But  _you_  have. I miss seeing my younger granddaughter play. I miss watching you whip music out with merely your fingers. I miss  _you_ , Quinnie."

"Gramps, I'm right here." Her heart ached. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She missed  _her_  too.

He shook his head with a melancholic smile. "No, you're not, sweetie. You haven't been, not in such a long, long time." She could literally feel the sourness in her heart. "I'm sorry, Quinnie. I'm sorry for letting your father make you go up like that. I'm sorry for hiding the truth from you. I'm sorry for telling you the truth at such an inappropriate time. I'm so sorry."

She shifted around and laid a hand on Grandpa Fred's shoulder. "Gramps, you don't have to be sorry."

"But I do."

"No," she insisted. "You don't. You have nothing to be sorry about." She swallowed and patted him twice. "I'm grateful that you told me, even though it came at a great price. I've never hated you. You were the only person other than Grammy who was honest with me and I thank you."

"Omission is a form of lying." She was about to say something when he continued. "You have no idea how guilty I felt for the last five years. I don't know about your father but I was…I knew how much you loved your grandmother and I was looking at you from the audience seats and I just couldn't hold it back anymore. I could have chosen a better time to tell you. I could have told you that morning or I could have told you after your performance."

"Gramps, do you really it would have made a difference?" He stared at her. "If you told me that morning, I would have refused to play and Daddy would stop me from playing just like he did. If you told me after the performance, I would have been torn apart and  _I_ would stop playing. You can't stop something from happening if it was meant to happen."

They stayed in silence. "Do you miss it?" he asked again.

She looked at the piano. "I do," she admitted.

"Then why aren't you playing?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. She wasn't sure how she should say this. "I'm not ready to talk about it, Gramps." He was family, after all. No matter what they say, it was always harder to talk to family.

"I just miss seeing you play."

She smiled at him and leaned forward to hug him. "I love you, Gramps," she whispered.

"You're wonderful, Quinnie. Remember that," he said when she was walking him to his bedroom. "You're talented and smart and your grandmother would have been so proud of you."

They bade their goodnight to each other and then Quinn was the only person awake in the house. She wandered the hallways for a few minutes and ended up in the study, sitting in the chair behind the big oak desk and staring at Grammy's urn. She had only ever touched it once, and that was when they collected her ashes after the funeral. She never touched it again.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. A child's laughter echoed in her ears.  _Her_ laughter. A kind lady's voice joined the child's, chastising the child for climbing  _on top_  the monkey bars. She smiled. Grammy had bought her ice-cream after that.

There was her first time playing the piano. And her grandmother had bought her ice-cream after that as a reward.

There was her attending kindergarten for the first time. And her grandmother had bought her ice-cream after because she made it through the first day without making a fuss.

There was her winning her first competition. And her grandmother had bought her ice-cream.

Her grandmother had bought her so many ice-creams. Her grandmother had been so proud on so many occasions. Her grandmother had encouraged her so many times when she was on the brink of giving up. Her grandmother had picked her up so many times when she fell. Her grandmother had showered her with so much love.

She opened her eyes to see the urn again.

And then she started talking. So softly. She talked about how she'd joined the soccer team, the bowling team, the Red Cross and the decathlon team over the past five years to fill her time. She talked about how goddamn bereaved she had been for the first two months. She talked about how she missed her. She talked about how she'd disappointed everyone. She talked about how her sister had taken her place in the family. She talked about how great her sister had been. She talked about the new piano tutor. She talked about how beautiful and brilliant Rachel was. She talked about Rachel's patience. She talked about her wisdom. She talked about falling in love with Rachel. She talked about how wonderful it was because Rachel felt the same.

"Rachel feels the same, Grammy," she whispered. "Isn't that great?" Then five long minutes later, she'd added, "You wouldn't be ashamed of me for this, would you?"

There was nothing. She closed her mouth and slowly stood up. She looked at the grandfather clock and despite how late it was, she picked up her jacket and car keys from her room. She could just skip school tomorrow. She didn't care.

She felt an urge for ice-cream.

On her way out, she took out her phone.

_Wanna have late night ice-cream?_

* * *

She parked her car next to Rachel's and saw that the older woman was too absorbed to singing along to the music in her car to notice her. Quinn smirked and rested back in her seat, watching Rachel's odd expressions as she sang the lyrics. Quinn couldn't hear but she was certain that Rachel was singing wonderfully.

Rachel opened her eyes at one point and jumped, startled to see Quinn sitting in the car next to her. She closed her mouth abruptly and glared at Quinn. The blonde only shrugged with a smug look on her face and got out of the car. Rachel got out as well. They looked at each other over the hood of Rachel's car.

"It's rude to watch people without them knowing," Rachel said.

Quinn smirked and walked into the ice-cream shop they'd stopped at, Rachel trailing behind. "It's also rude to interrupt people when they're in the middle of doing something. So really, I wasn't  _that_ rude."

She heard Rachel scoff behind her and laughed herself. They made their choices and sat at a table with their ice-cream. It was late so there was barely anybody in the shop. They scooped a few scoops of ice-cream into their mouth.

"Isn't it school night?" Rachel asked.

Quinn lifted her shoulders. "It's Thanksgiving."

Rachel shook her head. "Kids these days," she muttered.

"You aren't that old."

"When I was your age, I never came out at 11.30 at night for ice-cream," Rachel said proudly. "By the way, does your grandfather even know?" Quinn shook her head. "Like I said, kids these days."

"You find it attractive. Don't deny it."

Rachel refused to meet her eyes and looked out the glass wall. "I find a lot of things about you attractive," she admitted. Quinn smiled and ate her ice-cream, keeping quiet. "So what brought this on?" She raised her brows in question. "As I recall, you didn't want to see me this afternoon."

"I was napping!" Rachel gave her a knowing look. Quinn rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever, I wasn't napping. But at least I came to the window."

"I was worried about you. I thought I could talk to you and see how you've been holding up since yesterday."

"I'm fine, Rachel."

"I can see that now."

"Thank you for worrying."

Rachel gazed at her and tilted her head to the side. "It's kind of hard not to."

Quinn blinked. In the end, she chuckled and shook her head. "You really don't have  _any_  qualms, do you? Do you even own a filter?"

Rachel smirked. "I just think it'd be easier to be direct and aggressive instead of being cowardly."

"Nothing about this is easy."

"Look at it this way. At least we know that it's mutual. At least we get to come out and have coffee or ice-cream without wondering if the other person is uncomfortable with it. At least we didn't have to hide from each other."

"Who says I'm not uncomfortable?"

"You invited me," Rachel enunciated. "Don't play hard-to-get." Quinn scoffed. "Really though, why are we here?"

"I talked to Gramps," she said. Rachel just kept eating as she stared at her expectantly. "Frannie was practicing and we were listening. He told me that he missed me when she turned in." The look on Rachel's face clearly told her to go on. "He missed the Quinn who used to play."

"Ah," Rachel drew out.

"He didn't know the Quinn who used to play wasn't really playing."

"Did you tell him that?"

"I wasn't ready to actually talk to him about everything I've told you." Quinn put down her ice-cream. "He felt guilty for telling me about Grammy's condition at the moment he did. I told him he shouldn't because he really shouldn't."

"Is this what they call taking the first step?"

Quinn thought on it and nodded. "I think it is. Gramps is my first step." She paused. "Or second step. Because you're the first."

"I'm honored," Rachel said with a dead serious look. "And I'm proud of you, Quinn, for taking the second step. I won't be surprised if you take more in the coming future."

"Don't get your hopes so high up."

"I'm not hoping. I  _know_."

Quinn felt a burst of confidence at the trusting look on Rachel's face. "Eat your ice-cream, doofus."

" _Lucy, my dear, take it slow. Take it one step at a time. Don't rush. You have all the time in the world."_


	7. Chapter 7

It was eleven in the morning when she finally woke up. She figured it was the price she had to pay for staying out so late the night before. She had come home around 12:30 in the morning, and even then hadn't gone straight to bed. Instead, she stayed up for another two hours, plowing through and finishing her book. Only then did she sleep.

She dreamed of a child, a park and an old lady. Then she dreamed of a young brunette. She dreamed of kissing the brunette. She dreamed of walking in the park with the woman. She dreamed of waking up next to the woman. She dreamed of so many things.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed in bed even after she woke up. Nobody came to 'wake' her up. Nothing disturbed her. She was almost catatonic. She wasn't thinking or moving. She was just lying there, tangled in her bed sheets and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning ever so slowly. She probably wouldn't even bother to get out of bed if her phone hadn't started buzzing so loudly from the bedside table.

She sighed and stretched her arm out to get the device without taking her eyes off the fan. Then her eyes traveled over to the lit up screen above her face.

_Happy Thanksgiving, Quinn – Rachel_

She smiled. She was about to type a reply when her phone buzzed again. It was Santana.

_What are you doing on this amazing parent-free day?_

_Hang around the house. Eat turkey. Homework. Blah._

Then she went on to reply Rachel.

_Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Miss Berry._ _\- Quinn_

She then forced herself out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a young girl who looked haggard and exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, a golden nest on her head and freckles over her cheeks. She wondered how she could look so old at such a young age.

Her phone buzzed and vibrated in her hand. She tore her eyes away from her reflection to her phone.

_God, why am I best friend with such a boring human being? Are you even human? It's fucking Thanksgiving, Q. You can't just 'hang around the house'. Especially not when your parents aren't around! This is the perfect chance for some naughty naughty._

Quinn rolled her eyes but a smile tugged on her lips anyway. Her fingers quickly flew away on the keyboard, composing a message swiftly.

_Not everyone's born to be a troll like you._

She was certain that would drive Santana nuts and she would probably end up with a livid Santana in her living room, making statements about how she was far better than a damn troll. She smiled at that and proceeded to get herself cleaned up and presentable.

Santana had already replied when she came out of the bathroom in her fluffy bathrobe.

_Quinn Fabray, you did not just…_

See? She was right about her best friend again.

_Troll! Troll in the dungeon!_

She went into her closet to pick out some clothes, and decided on a yellow sweater over a white tank top and a pair of white shorts. She ran a comb through her hair to get the nest sorted out. Something always happened to her hair while she was sleeping. It was as though she got into a catfight and lost.

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to the living room. Frannie was filling out the paper's crossword puzzle on the sofa. Grandpa Fred was nowhere to be found. As expected, Mercedes was busy clanking around the kitchen, getting Thanksgiving dinner ready. Mercedes and her husband had been invited to stay for Thanksgiving dinner and she had agreed.

She sat down opposite Frannie and waited for her to look at her. She did five minutes later.

"Happy Thanksgiving, dear sister," Frannie drawled and leaned forward to kiss Quinn on the forehead.

Quinn smiled and nodded. "Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Fran," Quinn addressed affectionately. "Where's Gramps?"

"He's out, picking up some last minute things for tonight." Quinn hummed. "Got anything planned before the dinner?"

She shrugged. "I think Santana has something planned but she's too shy to ask me," she said with a smirk, shaking her phone at her sister.

Frannie's brow cocked. It was a Fabray thing. "Santana Lopez? Shy? Is this real?"

Quinn's smirk spread into a grin. "Maybe." Right on time, her phone buzzed twice with two texts. "That's probably her."

It  _was_  her. And Rachel. Quinn paused for half a second before she opened Santana's text first. She chuckled when she read her text.

_Alright, that's it! You get your ass ready! I'm coming over with Brittany to pick you up and then she's gonna help me whack your ass until you don't have one._

_Brittany wouldn't let you do that_ , Quinn countered easily.

Rachel's text said:  _Since it's Thanksgiving, thank you for inviting me to ice-cream last night. It may very well be the best ice-cream I've ever tasted in my twenty-nine years_. – _Rachel_

Quinn blushed.

"Is that Santana or is there something you're not telling me?" Quinn looked to her sister to see Frannie simpering. "Are you seeing someone, baby sis?"

"No!" Quinn exclaimed hurriedly. She knew she had just made a mistake by answering to quickly. Frannie would know she was lying. But technically, she wasn't lying. She really wasn't seeing anyone. She had only made herself exclusive for someone. "It was Santana," she insisted.

"I know how phones work, Quinn. Yours buzzed twice. You had two texts."

"Stop getting into my private life," Quinn hissed jokingly.

Frannie's eyes twinkled and she nodded in realization. "Ah," she drawled. "So there  _is_  someone."

Quinn huffed exasperatedly. "Shut up!"

"It's okay, Quinn. I'm glad you found someone. I was starting to worry about you."

"There's no need to worry about me." Frannie gave her a look. "Okay, maybe I've been kind of off. But that will be just that. I won't do anything drastic because of that. I mean, I know better than that. Besides, I'm getting help, remember?"

"Yes, help," Frannie said. Before she could say more, there were rapid knocks on the front door. Frannie stood up and patted her thighs. "Well, ten bucks says that's your friend."

"I wouldn't bet anything against that," Quinn quipped. She stood up as well. She walked beside Frannie as they headed to the front door. "Don't you have plans today?"

"I'm gonna go out for a drink later with some of my friends."

Quinn fake gasped and feigned shock. "This early in the day? Do you have a condition, Frannie?"

"Oh look, my sister's being funny. I haven't seen that in so long," Frannie blankly said. She slapped Quinn's cheek gently as a joke before opening the door. Santana was standing right there at her doorstep. Quinn could see Brittany and Puck sitting in her car over her shoulder. What? "Hello, Santana."

"Hey, Frannie."

"Having a nice Thanksgiving?"

"I was, until Quinn called me a troll via text. You wouldn't mind if I bring her somewhere for execution, would you?"

"Oh no, no, go ahead! She's all yours! Just make sure she makes it back home for Thanksgiving dinner."

"No problem." She flashed an evil smile at Quinn. "Come on, Quinn. It's time to face the music."

Quinn nodded easily, grabbing her jacket from the walk-in closet and slipping on her sneakers. "Uh huh, sure. You would need Puck for that." She patted her sister on the head as she headed out and winked at Frannie. When they were all in the car, Quinn asked, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere," Santana said cryptically.

"Which is?"

Not that Quinn hadn't expected it, but it annoyed her when Santana refused to answer. "Don't worry, Quinn. I'll make sure you stay safe," Brittany assured her from the front seat.

Quinn had no idea why she didn't feel the least bit reassured even after that.

* * *

They finally stopped at the pier. Quinn watched as Santana and Brittany got out of the car simultaneously. She stayed inside; because who knows what'll happen at the pier? There wasn't a single soul there. Well, there were the boats but they were empty. There was also only one car. Quinn squinted.

"Puck?" she whispered once she recognized the vehicle. Before she came to her senses, the backseat door opened and she was dragged out by the forearm by a very impatient Santana. "What the heck?"

"Come on! Let's go!" Santana shouted into her face.

Quinn stayed rooted to her spot once she found her footing. "What are you up to?"

Santana gave her a look and pulled harder on her forearm, hard enough for her to stumble and be dragged along. "Just come with us," Santana exclaimed in annoyance.

They reached the far end of the pier to see two boys leaning against the railing with their backs to them. One of them had a Mohawk and the other was freakishly tall. Quinn's eyes traveled from the two of them to Santana and then to Brittany, who did nothing but smile at her. They stopped at the bench and the boys turned around.

"Hey, Quinn!" Finn greeted enthusiastically with a wide grin.

Puck jerked his chin towards her and smirked. "'Sup, momma?"

"I'm a virgin," she quipped.

"Oh," Santana drawled with a grin. "Burn."

Puck shrugged. "I can fix that," he said casually.

Quinn shook her head in amusement and sat down on the bench, used to his lecherous remarks. "So what are we doing here?" she addressed them.

Santana sat down next to her, and Brittany next to Santana. Suddenly, Santana had a can of Budweiser in her hand. How the hell did they procure a can of Budweiser? Before Quinn could ask, Santana explained, "Well, we know that this is the first Thanksgiving you're spending without your producers."

Quinn grimaced. "Really, Santana? Producers?"

"Just go with it."

Puck opened a can and passed it to Quinn, who accepted it and took a sip. "We thought that for once, you might wanna spend it with us. Well, half of the day with us. We can just…ya know, relax out here and have some beer and maybe do some boring shit together."

"We just want you to have fun," Finn added, punching Puck gently. "I mean, I'm not as close to you as they are, but I know enough." His tone indicated that he did know enough.

"You never got to have a break," Brittany continued. She opened a can herself and thrust it in Quinn's direction as a toast. "We're gonna give you one. Today."

They all knocked their cans against Brittany's and shouted their cheers. Quinn laughed when beer trickled down Puck's chin and neck. She drank a mouthful from her own and savored the bittersweet tang of it. She nodded and nudged Santana's shoulders with hers.

"Thank you, guys."

"Whatever, we all needed to get away from our overbearing parents too. So we kinda have selfish intentions when we planned this," Santana said, dismissing Quinn with a wave of her hand.

Quinn chuckled and nodded in indulgence. Santana was acting tough but she knew that she was actually doing this for her because her parents were never overbearing.

Finn and Puck sat on the other side of the bench next to her. She was stuck in the middle. She was already on her second can in fifteen minutes. And the third after another fifteen minutes. The sea breeze caressed her skin gently, whispering against her nerves. It was cold, but not unpleasant cold. The beer had warmed her up quite significantly.

She looked around her and watched her friends. They were probably the only teenagers around that would drink underage. They were a weird bunch of kids, she thought. She turned back towards the sea, stretching beyond the horizons, clear and blue. Albeit, some birds were shitting into it but Quinn could ignore that.

"Are we really gonna sit here drinking beer all day?" she asked, her words slightly slurred. Oops. Knowing that she had reached her limit, she downed the rest of her can and flung it into the sea. She watched the surface ripple and the can sink.

"It's your break, remember? We're not supposed to stress you," Finn said, mimicking what she did before.

"Pollution!" Puck yelled. He was obviously halfway to Drunk-town.

They both shrugged in unison. Quinn looked out to the sea again. Silence befell upon them once again. And then she smiled.

It was a nice break.

* * *

Her drunkenness had almost faded entirely by the time she had arrived home. She still felt slightly dizzy but that wasn't anything a shower couldn't fix. She thanked her friends again for granting her this break and then went inside the house. The first thing she smelled was the turkey and that  _almost_  got rid of the dizziness in her brain.

She hummed quietly as she hung her jacket in the walk-in closet and put her sneakers in the shoe rack. She crawled upstairs, careful to not miss a step and fall. That would hurt. It hurt to even think about. She grunted in relief when she reached the top of the stairs and turned left down the hallway and into her room.

She locked the door behind her and instantly stripped. There might be monkeys or some animals out on the trees outside her window spying on her but she could barely give a rat ass right now. She just wanted to get out of her clothes and drench herself in the shower. She turned on the water. A loud moan escaped her throat as the warm water pelted her skin. It was as if she was standing in heaven.

She didn't bother stepping out until the hot water ran out. The break had somehow loosened every single tense muscle in her body and the tangled messiness in her head. How did that even happen?

She dried her body with a towel and then dressed herself in a light blue blouse and pair of beige khakis. She blow-dried her hair and combed it nicely. She checked the clock to see that there were still twenty minutes until dinner. She wondered what she should do until then.

She didn't want to do homework today. It's freaking Thanksgiving. She refused to do homework on Thanksgiving.

Just then, the doorbell rang. She briefly wondered who it could be until she remembered that Grandpa Fred had invited Mercedes' husband, Sam, over for dinner. She smiled at the perfect timing. She could spend her time with their guest. Sam was a fun person to be with.

She smiled when she saw Mercedes pecking Sam on the lips and them whispering to each other at the front door as she made her way downstairs. They probably thought it'd be alright because nobody was there. It was easy to see that they were terribly in love with each other, even after twenty years of marriage. People always say that love goes away gradually once you put a name on the paper, but these two had proven them wrong.

"Ew!" she said loudly, echoed by her sister behind her. She looked behind her, surprised. Frannie smiled cheekily and wiggled her fingers. She turned back to the couple. Mercedes was looking at them in a chastising way while Sam blushed with a shy grin. "No PDA in public!"

"We're on private property," Mercedes answered.

" _Our_ private property," Frannie and Quinn said in unison. Quinn's brows twitched. It was getting weird. "And anyway, we don't even have dates for this dinner so you two can stop being lovey dovey because it makes us sad."

Mercedes eyed her carefully and Quinn thought she might deserve an award for not squirming under Mercedes' scrutiny. "You could easily find a date with your looks. Both of you."

Frannie stood next to Quinn on the stairs. "Look, alone people don't like to hear about the together people. It's mean. It's like bringing a six pack to an AA meeting."

Quinn frowned. "Did you really just quote Grey's Anatomy?" she whispered, only loud enough for Frannie to hear.

Frannie ignored her and motioned at the couple with her hand playfully. "So you two can go and cuddle and make out when we can't see it," she said. "Thank you," she added with a smile.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and extracted herself from her husband's embrace. As if it was an act of rebellion, she pecked Sam's lips once more before smirking at Frannie. "Dinner will be ready soon. You guys keep my man company while I check on the food. And get your grandfather down here while you're at it." With that, she retreated into the kitchen.

Quinn was already making her way back upstairs. "I'll go. You guys sit and talk," she said. "It's great to see you again, Sam." Then she headed upstairs. She vaguely heard Frannie inviting Sam to the living room to sit.

Grandpa Fred was in his study, as always. He was reading. Quinn squinted and saw that he wasn't actually reading; he was flipping through music books.  _Her_ music books; which she had stopped perusing for years and had been wondering where it had gone to gather dust since Rachel's appearance.

She knocked on the wood gently and he looked up. She almost giggled at the sight of him scrambling to hide the cover of the book. "I saw that," she admitted, walking into the room and sitting opposite him. "So you were the ones who kept it."

Grandpa Fred sighed and then shook his head. He lifted the book and smiled. "It wasn't me, actually." She frowned. "I'm not the only one who uses this room," he said cryptically.

The only person who'd use the study as often as her grandfather did was, "Daddy?"

"I was looking around for something your grandmother left for me." He then lifted a pin of a bird with a smile. "But then I found a stack of these hidden in your father's corner of the room." She was speechless. "And guess what? They're not dusty. Things are only _not_  dusty when they're often perused."

"Gramps," she drifted off. Her brain could hardly comprehend that her father had actually kept her music books when he had been so adamant in forbidding her from playing. Russell Fabray had actually kept the music books _and_  went through them from time to time.

"Your father," Grandpa Fred said with an amused chuckle, "that old gaffer."

"Mom could have been the one to keep it," Quinn argued futilely, knowing full well that it wasn't the truth.

"Judy barely enters the study. And even if she does, she knows to never meddle around  _that_  particular corner of your father's. He kept insisting that it is his private space."

"So you were basically breaching his rules."

Grandpa Fred shrugged guiltlessly. "It didn't surface fruitless, did it?"

Quinn stared at the music book in his hand. "I'm not sure if I would call that fruit instead of a poison berry."

Grandpa Fred nodded in understanding. "Quinn, your father loves you." Quinn knew that. Russell had practically told her that on their last phone call. "He may not show it much. Hell, he may have never showed that he loves you. But he does. I'm certain that he misses you, probably more than I do. And I think…I think his ego is getting into his way of reconciling with you. You two are so similar that you're allowing this gap between you widen without even realizing it."

"He practically kicked me out of the family five years ago," Quinn said.

"He has anger issues. We all know that. In fact, when his father was still alive, we used to talk. And he told me that Russell's temper used to be much worse before he met your mother. Judy's mellowed him out. Sometimes, I'm astonished at how patient your mother can be with him."

"Yeah, me too."

He stood up and went over to said corner and stashed the book inside a cabinet. She stared at the cabinet. She wondered what else her father had hid in there. She was disrupted from her thoughts when Grandpa Fred wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist, and she did the same, and they walked out of the study together. "Try to talk to your father, Quinn. I think you'll learn a lot."

The thing was, she wasn't sure if she wanted to learn those things. Was she ready for things to change after five years of getting used to it?

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner went over well. They started by saying the things they were thankful for. Grandpa Fred said he was thankful for his two wonderful granddaughters. Frannie said she was thankful for having a whole family – even though it wasn't typical. Mercedes was thankful for her husband and her great other family, the Fabrays. Sam was thankful for his wife. Quinn didn't say a thing and they didn't push her.

In her heart, she was thankful for Rachel's appearance in her life, because she had shone light on so many things that Quinn hadn't understood for a long time. She was thankful for Mercedes' understanding on her complicated relationship with the tutor. She was thankful for her sister's continuous adoration because she was a really difficult younger sister to begin with.

Sam made some impressive impressions throughout dinner. Mercedes' cooking was as scrumptious as always. They had great laughs together.

Quinn missed her parents, oddly. Thanksgiving dinner was the only few dinners throughout a year where they would forget about their conflicts and enjoy their time together. Her father would actually grin and laugh genuinely. Her thoughts sobered. She reminded herself to give him a call later that night.

Mercedes served eggnog at the end of dinner. Her eggnogs were legendary. They sat in the living room and shared stories. They talked until Mercedes and Sam decided it was time for them to head home. Quinn figured they'd do inappropriate things when they got home. And she said as much, which earned her a smack on the elbow from her sister and a scandalous look from her grandfather.

"You need to bleach your brain, Quinn," Sam said.

Quinn winced playfully and clicked her tongue. "Yikes, I know right."

Sam chuckled. They waved goodbye as he ushered Mercedes out. Two seconds later, only Quinn, Frannie and Grandpa Fred were left in the house. It was late, so he decided to turn in. Frannie suggested they play a little Wii before they turned in as well.

As always, Quinn beat Frannie in tennis 9 out of the 10 times they played. The one game she lost, she was letting Frannie win, and Frannie knew it. There were thirty minutes left before midnight when Frannie yawned.

"Go to bed, Fran," Quinn told her.

Frannie nodded in agreement and approached Quinn. Then she surprised Quinn by giving her a tight embrace and a kiss on her temple. "Happy Thanksgiving, Quinn," Frannie muttered into her hair.

Quinn was stunned for a moment but recovered. She wrapped her arms around her sister and smiled into her shoulder. Then she nodded. "Happy Thanksgiving, Fran."

Five minutes later, she was left alone in the living room. The lights were dimmed. It was sort of creepy to be alone down here, but she wasn't bothered in the least. She was distracted by the contact she'd opened on her phone. Her finger hovered over the green icon.

And then her grandfather's words suddenly made their way back into her mind and she pressed the call button before she could regret it.

"Quinn?"

She sucked in air harshly. "Hey, Dad," she greeted.

"Quinn, it's late," he said. But she heard shuffling in the background and she figured he was probably getting out of bed. "Is everything okay?"

She stood up and made her way upstairs to the study. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," she said as she climbed up the stairs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She quietly opened the door and closed it behind her. She turned on the lamp on the desk and then pulled open the curtains so the moonlight could stream in. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dad," she then said.

There was a pause. "Happy Thanksgiving, Quinn," he said. She could swear his voice was wavering slightly. She knelt down in front of the cabinet her father had claimed to be his personal corner. Her hand reached out but she hesitated in opening it. "Is there anything else?"

She blinked. Her hand shrank back. She sat down on the floor, staring at the cabinet. "No," she finally said. "It was weird…" she drifted off. "To spend Thanksgiving without you and Mom."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."

"No, no, it's okay. I mean, I understand. I'm just saying…it was weird." That was probably the closest to  _I miss you_  she would get to saying; she just couldn't manage to say it. Her pride was too big.

Russell would know exactly what she meant though. She was his daughter after all. "Good night, Quinn," he said softly.

"Tell Mom I said Happy Thanksgiving."

"I will."

"Good night, Dad."

They waited for about fifteen seconds before Quinn actually hung up. She stared at the cabinet a few moments longer and then opened it, randomly pulling out one of the books from within. She saw her name scribbled across the front. Her throat clogged up at the sight. Then slowly and carefully, as if it was the most fragile thing she'd ever held in her hands, she flipped it open.

The pages were yellowing already. However, besides that, it was in mint condition; just the way she had left it. She read the messy notes she had scribbled across the pages. She studied the notes Will Schuester had given her when he was her tutor. She heard the music playing in her head, note by note.

At ten minutes to midnight, she sat on the bench in the piano room and turned the lid over; revealing the black and white keys hidden beneath. The music book was seated in front of her, opened. Then she dialed another number.

"You have awful sleeping habits," Rachel said the minute she picked up the call.

Quinn grinned and ran a hand through her hair. "Look at the pot calling the kettle black."

Rachel gasped. "How dare you," she gasped exaggeratedly. Quinn giggled. "So what's up?"

"I want you to listen to this," she said.

"Okay."

Quinn put the phone on top of the piano, turned on the speaker and laid her fingers on the keys. Her eyes ran over the notes on the page she'd turned to. And then her memories came to her. She remembered the exact composition of the music she was about to play.

Unlike last time, she felt so confident tonight. She felt ready.

She played.  _Pachelbel's Canon in D_. She allowed her mind to travel, bring her to places. Her fingers were  _dancing_ on their own volition. She could feel the vibrations running throughout her body, shaking her nerves and jolting her veins. The exhilaration was incredible. And then she recalled exactly how good she was at playing.

She was panting when the final note was pressed and released. Her eyes were opened and she saw everything in its most incredible vibrancy. Her breathing returned to its regularity and she smiled. She played. She  _played_. And it felt so freaking wonderful. She didn't remember ever feeling something such as this. She couldn't describe it with mere words.

Then she remembered that Rachel was the  _first_  person to hear her play again. She picked her phone up and took it off speaker and put it to her ear.

"Rach?" Silence greeted her. "Rachel?" More silence. "Are you there?"

"Quinn." Rachel's voice was shaking and cracking. She frowned in concern. Then she heard a helpless laugh. "Quinn," Rachel said again.

"Yes?"

Rachel laughed again and Quinn smiled in confusion. "Quinn," Rachel repeated. And Quinn heard a sob. "That was  _beautiful_ ," Rachel breathed. " _You_ were marvelous." Quinn blushed. "God, Quinn, do you have the slightest idea how wonderfully talented you are? You have a gift!"

"Thank you."

"No. Thank  _you_. Thank you for letting me listen to your comeback performance. Thank you for showing me once again what a miraculous human being you are. Thank you for being ready. Thank you for giving me one of the most remarkable performances I've ever heard in my life."

"Now you're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not," Rachel quickly argued. "I've heard a lot of people play. I've heard your sister play. And I don't think I've ever heard anything so striking."

"You're really the first person to hear me play for the first time after five years," Quinn admitted.

She heard Rachel smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

Quinn listened to Rachel laugh again and she laughed along. She pressed down on a key and listened to the note. "Happy Thanksgiving, Rach."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Quinn. I'm very proud of you."

Even though her parents weren't here, even though her dad had yet to show her forgiveness, even though she would probably get kicked out for falling for a person she should never fall for, she could easily say this was one of the best Thanksgivings she'd ever had.

" _Lucy dear, be resilient. Be stubborn. Fight for what you believe is right. Don't ever give up. If you fall, take as long as you need to rest, as long as you get up and start over. You'll go miles someday."_


	8. Chapter 8

There was a woman already in Miss Avery's room when Quinn arrived. She blinked in surprise and watched through the window. The woman looked prim, and very pretty, She was dressed in proper work clothes; blouse, blazer and slacks with her hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail. She was also standing in between Miss Avery's legs.

Quinn cocked a brow and smirked. No, she was not jealous. She was way past that. Miss Avery was no longer the object of her affections. She was glad for Miss Avery. She  _admired_  Miss Avery. This was a small conservative town in Ohio, after all. She applauded Miss Avery for having the balls to bring her girlfriend to a  _school_  – of all places – and show no restrictions in their affections.

The warning bell rang. The woman glanced up at the clock and then back to Miss Avery. Quinn was prompted to look away as she leaned closer towards Miss Avery, obviously aiming for some lip-lock action. Quinn hummed under her breath –  _Canon In D_ , she smiled to herself – and wondered if she would ever be brave enough to do that in public.

With Rachel Berry.

If it was even happening.

Because she couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else currently.

Kissing, that is.

And then she turned around, looked down to her feet in case they were not done, and rapped her knuckles against the door. Only then did she look up and opened it, smiling as they acted chastised and embarrassed, because  _oh my god how cute!_  She closed the door behind her and nodded in their direction.

"Good morning," she said, barely keeping the laugh from spilling out.

Miss Avery pushed herself off the edge of the table she was leaning against and nodded at her student with an honest smile. "Morning, Quinn. You're early today."

"Thought I'd surprise you for once by being on time." Quinn sat down at her seat and propped her chin in her hand. "Instead, I got a surprise of my own."

Miss Avery rolled her eyes while her girlfriend made a choking noise and blushed. "Quinn," Miss Avery gently admonished while nodding gently in reassurance toward her girlfriend. They had a muted conversation. Probably about how inappropriate it was and blah blah blah. They turned back around. "Quinn, this is Jemma. Jemma, this is Quinn."

Quinn thought she saw the girlfriend's eyes flashed with a hint of recognition but then it disappeared. "Oh," the girlfriend said.

Quinn waved with a grin. "I'm not sure it's appropriate for me to call you Jemma because you  _are_ my teacher's girlfriend, after all."

"You have got a very direct student, Skye." Quinn raised her brows and her grin widened. So this woman was British. "It's fine, Quinn. Jemma is fine." Quinn nodded in agreement. Jemma looked at her wrist and Quinn could see very clearly that she was  _not_  wearing a watch but, "Oh, lookie there! I've gotta go. Fitz will be awfully furious if I'm late. I'll see you later?" Miss Avery nodded and the look on her face screamed whipped. "Nice to meet you, Quinn."

"Nice to meet you, Jemma." And then she was out. There was about three seconds of silence before Quinn said, "Well, color me surprised."

Miss Avery crossed her arms and leaned back against her table. "Why are you surprised?"

Quinn raised her hands and waved them around in the air. "I'm not judging or anything. I mean," she looked at the door in precaution, "I've heard things but wow."

"What? Surprised that you might actually have a chance if I wasn't your teacher?" Miss Avery said with a smirk.

Quinn's eyes widened. "I – I," she stuttered. "Oh my god." Miss Avery nodded knowingly. "I'm not sure this is a conversation appropriate between a student and a teacher."

"I thought we're friends. Well, I mean, I've given you advice that I don't normally give to my students. And we've talked about things that normal teachers don't talk about with normal students. But we're nowhere near normal, are we? " This time, Miss Avery wasn't smirking. She was smiling. It was a genuine smile.

Quinn smiled in return. "So, British, huh?"

"Sometimes, you get surprised by the things or the people you're attracted to." Quinn could definitely concur that. "Jemma was definitely  _not_  my type." The blonde felt like there was more to that than the fact that the woman looked like she was a lot smarter than they could imagine. "Wanna guess how old I am?"

"24," Quinn said without hesitation. Miss Avery looked surprised. "I can get kind of stalkerish sometimes."

"That's not reassuring at all." Quinn giggled. The teacher sighed with a bemused smile and jerked her head toward the door her girlfriend had just walked out of. "She's 32." Quinn blinked rapidly. She looked at the door and then back at her teacher. She repeated the movement twice before her brain finally worked again. Shit. "I actually met her when I was in college, and she was the youngest professor on campus. And she was…really goddamn beautiful. She still is."

Before she could continue though, the door opened and students began filtering in for the first class of the day. Quinn watched as Miss Avery took an irritated breath at the interruption. She steadied herself and slapped on a bright smile. She clapped her hands once together, after all the students were seated, to signal the start of class.

Quinn could hardly focus. She was too busy thinking about the glaring similarities in their situations.

* * *

She stayed behind when class was dismissed. There was still time before her next class. Miss Avery seemed surprised to see Quinn still there, and she watched the realization pass over her teacher's face as she figured out the reason.

Miss Avery promptly closed the door and sat down at the desk next to Quinn. She smiled. "So who is it?"

Quinn's eyes widened and she took in a deep breath. Then she cleared her throat and chuckled nervously. "This is…" She clenched her jaw and played with her fingers. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Hey." Quinn looked up. Miss Avery gave her a reassuring look. "Anything that is said between us won't get out. Well, maybe I'll tell Jemma because I tell Jemma everything. But she's a good secret keeper. And I just want to help you."

Quinn nodded. "It's my sister's piano tutor." Miss Avery nodded, probing her to continue. Quinn winced slightly before she said, "She's 29." The teacher's brow rose. Quinn offered a nervous smile. "I know right."

"Are you sure this is not just a crush?" was the first thing Miss Avery asked.

Quinn brushed a hand through her hair and shrugged helplessly. "I would be so grateful if it was just a crush, Miss Avery." She drifted off and looked out the window. The barrage of emotions she felt whenever she thought of Rachel definitely told her something else. "Unfortunately, it isn't." She struggled to find the right words to continue. "She's…she pushed me…in a good way," she stammered. "Remember when I told you about the thing, ya know, someone dragging your past into your life unintentionally and stuff?"

"That someone is the piano tutor?" Miss Avery assumed. Quinn nodded. "I told you to follow your heart, didn't I?"

Quinn grinned and looked at her teacher as she remembered last night's events. "I didn't, at the start. I was hesitant. I was afraid. And yet my mind was full of these thoughts: to play again, my attraction to her and the fact that my feelings are reciprocated." She laughed nervously at that. "She gave me gentle probes. She didn't actually force me, but she made me think about so many things and I came to realize something. And then suddenly I found myself ready, and I  _played_  last night."

Miss Avery smiled when she saw the way her student's face had lightened up at the mention of playing. "How did it feel?"

Quinn's grin widened. "Beyond," she whispered.

"I would love to hear you play sometime," Miss Avery said.

"I should hope you would get to."

There was a moment of silence. "Let me tell me you something," Miss Avery said. Quinn stared at her expectantly. "Jemma was my professor in college."

Well fuck, the similarities just kept piling up.

Miss Avery leaned back against her chair and smiled as she reminisced. "I heard that the professor was very attractive and I was very promiscuous and mischievous back then. I sneaked into her class, and let me tell you, my brain was  _zapped_. I don't think I have ever felt something like what I felt the first time I saw her. She was teaching Biochemistry and I honestly have no idea what half of the things she said were because A, I'm completely screwed when it comes to science and B, I was too busy staring at her. She was so smart that she  _knew_ that I wasn't there to actually learn stuff."

"Wait, hold up," Quinn interrupted and offered her teacher an incredulous look. "From what I've heard so far, you definitely do not qualify as a teacher."

Miss Avery smirked and waggled her brows. "I know, right? Surprisingly for you –  _and_  for her – I majored in teaching and minored in computer science. So beware, I could easily hack your Facebook, Rick-Roll everyone, and they would have no idea it was me." Quinn smiled. "So, as I was saying, she asked me to stay back after class and she actually interrogated me. It was pretty obvious that the attraction was  _strong_ , but we couldn't do anything about it because rules say we can't."

"So what happened then?"

"A party happened. She was there. I was there.  _Nothing_ happened that day. Well, if you consider buying her a drink a thing. And then we talked and I just…it was as if the world had dulled for me, ya know what I mean? I found I wasn't attracted to anyone anymore, except for this incredibly hot and older professor." Miss Avery glanced at the door to keep things in check and then turned back to Quinn. "Then I began to avoid her for like, two months, because I didn't know how to deal with all the feelings. Kind of like you at the beginning. And then, as if fate was playing with us, I ended up at another party with her. And she cornered me and she questioned me."

"And you told her everything," Quinn predicted.

"Yeah, I was pretty weak when it came to her. I still am."

"I avoided her too," the blonde admitted.

"It's perfectly natural. You get afraid. You're not used to it. And then you run away from it. But it will turn around and bite you in the a-" Miss Avery stopped herself and smiled sheepishly. "Butt," she finished weakly.

Quinn laughed at her slip.

"She kissed me. I didn't kiss her. She  _kissed_ me right there and then. In the middle of an empty hallway, where anybody could have seen us." The teacher drifted off and then she grinned. "And I'm telling you, I've never been happier for the fact that she picked up the courage to do that, because if it was me, I would have run away and I probably wouldn't have the best girlfriend in this entire world."

Quinn thought of everything her teacher had just told her. It was a beautiful story, but, "I don't think my situation's going to be as simple as yours though," she whispered. "You must have heard things about my folks. We're supposed to be sophisticated and classy and be children of God," Quinn said in high-pitched, mocking voice with a roll of her eyes.

"Situations like this are never easy, but you can't just tuck your feelings away as if they're nothing. Especially if what you told me is true – that the feelings you have for this tutor is more than just a simple crush."

"What are you saying?"

Miss Avery shifted in her seat. "I took that leap of faith."

* * *

Quinn leaned against the door and quietly listened to them practicing inside. Her arms were hanging off the top of her knees. She recalled everything Miss Avery had told her. She remembered their smiling faces and how happy they were to be with each other.

Should she take that leap of faith? If she did, would she end up falling into an endless abyss, falling to her death? Or would she land in paradise? Would she have what she wanted? Would she have what Miss Avery and Jemma had? What if she didn't take that leap of faith? What then?

All of these questions plagued her mind, and yet she couldn't find answers to any of them. She damned herself for not being clairvoyant, then she wouldn't have such a hard time figuring out the answers. She would _know_ which path to take: to leap or not to leap. Instead, she sat here, having one of the greatest headaches of her life.

She dug her nails into her palms, hard enough to manifest crescents over her skin. She opened her eyes and released a shivering breath. She stared at her fingers and a small smile appeared on her face.

She  _played_  last night. She had actually pressed the keys on the piano with these fingers and whipped out a tune. She brought the woman inside to tears with these fingers. She shed light on herself with these fingers last night. Pride rose up in her chest. She was certain that none of this would have happened if Rachel Berry hadn't shown up in her life and given it a big spin.

"Maybe I should," she whispered to herself.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't realize that their practice session had ended. She found herself suddenly falling backwards, because someone had opened the door and she had lost her support. She blinked rapidly, staring up ahead with wide eyes. Frannie was laughing as Rachel had helped her up with an amused smile on her face.

She rolled her eyes when her sister would not stop cackling like a hen. "Frannie, you should sympathize with me, not be laughing at me," she said.

Frannie waved her hand frantically but she kept laughing. "Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't help myself," she said in between gasping breaths. "Oh my god, you should have seen yourself."

"It was adorable," Rachel commented and Quinn sent her an exasperated look. Rachel only shrugged with a grin. "You were adorable," she said, her voice quieter so Frannie wouldn't hear her.

Quinn's cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat. "You need to stop saying things like that," Quinn said with a reluctant smile. "Or I might lose control and you might get fired."

Before Rachel could say anything back, Frannie had finally ceased laughing but she was still chuckling in between. "Well, our session's over. And thank you, Quinn, for giving me a good laugh in the end." Quinn rolled her eyes again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rachel."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Rachel repeated the sentiment. Frannie was considerate enough to close the door behind her when she left. "I wouldn't mind getting fired if you losing control means kissing me."

"Miss Berry," Quinn gasped.

Rachel grinned. "Sorry," she said very insincerely.

Quinn clicked her tongue disapprovingly and went to sit down on the sofa. Rachel sat at the bench, keeping a certain distance between them. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"That you played?" Quinn nodded. "Who could I tell?"

"Um…Frannie?"

Rachel shook her head. "It's not my place to tell." Quinn nodded thankfully. "I'm also a little selfish because I want to continue being the only person to hear you play…if only for a little longer."

"You're special even without that," Quinn admitted and then she looked away from Rachel to the shelf of records.

"You are too." Quinn snapped her eyes back to the woman. "Yeah."

 _Take that leap of faith_ , Miss Avery's voice echoed in her head. Quinn blinked. "How are you so casual about this?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid? You could get arrested."

"Nothing has happened between us – yet – so technically, they can't arrest me." She gave Rachel a look. "I  _am_  afraid. I'm not used to these feelings I feel for you. And you're so young and that just kind of makes me a pedophile." Quinn giggled. "I'm afraid  _for_  you. Because you're only 17 and you told me you're going to Yale and I want you to have a bright future. I want you to have stable career and an apartment and a car and somewhere you belong to. And what if this thing between us will prevent that?"

Rachel's smile had long disappeared, replaced by a look of rarely seen fear and care. Quinn knew that this conversation was not going to be as lighthearted as their past conversations had been. She also knew to maintain the distance between them because hearing those words from Rachel had ignited an urge within her to just throw all the care aside and kiss the hell out of the woman.

"I know I've said things about this being a norm and a 12 year age difference isn't really that big of a deal, but honestly, Quinn, I'm terrified to the core." Rachel brushed her hair aside and gave her an honest look. "You have no idea how exhausting it is for me to hold myself back every time I see you. I have to  _not_  do things I want to do with you, because you're beautiful and charming and talented and so very sad."

"I had no idea that you felt like that," Quinn said.

Rachel released a breathless chuckle and shook her head. "Because I perfected my acting skills when I wanted to be a Broadway star." Quinn grinned at that. "I care about you, Quinn. More than I should. And I think it would destroy me if you came to resent me if things don't go the way we wanted."

"I would never resent you, Rachel. You've helped me! You've guided me through the darkness and you are  _still_  guiding me. I mean, I  _played_  last night because of you, for god's sake!" Quinn interrupted.

There was a lull between them. "You know, I realized that I love you when you played for me last night."

Quinn froze. Her eyes widened. Her jaw hung open slightly.

"I think I'm attracted to you for your complexity. Your sadness has somehow pulled me to you. And I wanted to know more about you. Yes, of course, I found you very beautiful the first time I met you. But honestly, I was curious about you and I only wanted to help you. I didn't actually expect this to happen. I didn't expect to fall in love with you."

"This is too fast," Quinn snapped to stop Rachel from talking. "It's too fast." Yes, Quinn was on her way to being in love with Rachel but Jesus Christ, she sure as hell wasn't there yet. And to hear Rachel say that she did was a freaking bomb.

"You don't have to say it back," Rachel quickly saved. "I myself find it a little too fast, but I don't want to hide things from you. I want nothing but the truth between us."

After Quinn got over her shock, she nodded in understanding and smiled at Rachel. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For helping me. For so many things. For loving me."

Rachel smiled in return. "It wasn't that hard for the last part."

* * *

Quinn thanked Miss Avery again for talking to her yesterday. Miss Avery had only given her a smile and told her that it was nothing. However, to Quinn, it was not nothing. It meant a lot. She'd been conflicted on what she should with her feelings for Rachel and the things she had done since she met Rachel, and Miss Avery had shed some light on the topic.

She went through classes on auto pilot. She jotted down notes. She listened to her teacher's lectures. She learned of protein synthesis in the mRNA and about carbon compounds. She received more notes from Miss Avery on how to write her essays. Nonetheless, her mind kept wandering back to the things Rachel had told her yesterday.

All this time, Quinn had this idea in her mind that Rachel was fearless and modern. She always thought that she was the one who kept over thinking things and making herself nervous all over. Until yesterday, when Rachel revealed that she wasn't as fearless as Quinn had thought her to be. Rachel could be vulnerable too. She wasn't that brave. And Quinn was glad. She was glad that Rachel wasn't as strong as she made herself out to be. Because that way, Quinn herself probably wasn't as much of a coward as she thought she was.

Rachel was certainly braver than she was, though. She had told Quinn she loved her with so much honesty. As far as Quinn could see, Rachel was telling the truth. Quinn was nothing short of stunned. And afraid. Coward. She had never fallen in love before. She didn't know what it felt like to be loved by somebody else that was not family. She didn't understand the mechanics.

 _Am I in love?_ She kept asking herself last night.

How could she be certain?

Being her best friend, Santana could immediately see that Quinn had something haunting her mind the moment she saw her, which was why Santana was giving her a look that was screaming for her to spill the second she sat down. Quinn squirmed in her seat.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't play stupid with me." Quinn shrugged and pursed her lips. "What? Did Berry go all  _I love you_  to you?" Quinn's eyes widened in surprise and she stared at Santana. "Wait," Santana said warily. She straightened slowly and grinned bemusedly. "Are you serious?" she whispered, knowing that there would always be ears around.

Quinn looked around her and noticed the absence of her other friends. "Where's Brittany? And Puck?"

"Brittany has that braniacs thing with Abrams and Cohen-Chang. Puck and Finn are at football practice," Santana told her. "Now, what the hell happened?"

Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before launching into the story of everything that had transpired yesterday. The only part she left out was the fact that she had played. She wanted to keep that between her and Rachel for a bit longer.

"Tell me you at least made out with her."

"Santana!" Quinn exclaimed. "There won't be any making out until the time for…making out is here," she stuttered. "Plus, I don't even know if I  _am_ in love with her."

"Well, you're  _falling_  for her. What's the freaking difference? You're on your way there. And let me tell you something, when you're on your way there, especially when you're so far up the road, there is no turning back. Trust me, I'd know." Yeah, she'd know. Quinn could see it when she was with Brittany.

Quinn contemplated and then asked, "What does it feel like?"

"It's different for everyone," Santana answered without pausing. Then she continued softly with a smile, "I imagined how it would feel to hold her hand for the rest of my life."

Quinn looked down at her pale hands. She'd never held Rachel's hand, but she could see how they would  _fit_.

* * *

Quinn took a half hour nap instead of eavesdropping on her sister's practice with Rachel. When she awoke, she changed into a t-shirt, running shorts, and sneakers. She was already driving towards her running spot as she put on her hat.

And  _god,_  did she  _run_. She ran as if she was being chased by a tiger. She ran aggressively. She ran on pounding feet. She ran with sweat rolling down her skin non-stop. She  _ran_. She didn't allow herself reprieve. She didn't allow her brain to  _think_. She didn't allow herself to lose focus on the path before her. She ran from the beginning to the place where she and Santana talked and then went back down the dirt road that led to the cliff.

Only then did she let herself stop. She stood akimbo, just a few feet from the edge of the cliff. She took in the view of the town before her: the tiny town filled with conservative townies. She couldn't wait to get out of here. She then squinted.

What would she do when she graduated? Would she be able to survive without Rachel? No – would she  _want_  to do it without Rachel?

She slowly sat down and crossed her legs. She released harsh breaths as she regulated her breathing. She closed her eyes. She saw herself stepping foot into Yale University. She saw herself settling into her dorm room. She saw herself saying hello to her faceless roommate. She saw herself venturing around the place. She saw herself doing many things. But she also saw herself being in Rachel's arms and having dinner with Rachel at the end of the day.

She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. These hands that had whipped out music so fluently for the first time in five years, Rachel's hands would fit  _perfectly_ , wouldn't they?

"Yes, they would."

 _Rachel is in love with me_.

* * *

Rachel was just coming out the front door when she pulled into the driveway. Quinn took off her cap and smoothed her hair down before she got out of the car. Rachel stopped in her tracks as Quinn stood behind the car door. Their eyes were on each other.

It felt like déjà vu. Last time they were in similar positions, Rachel had obscurely revealed her feelings towards Quinn. Last time they were in similar positions, Quinn had put her defenses up as high as she could and yet Rachel had managed to tear them down with ease. Rachel had done so many things to and for her.

Rachel's lips twitched. "I thought I wouldn't see you today," she said.

Quinn nodded and closed the door gently. "I thought I wouldn't see you today either," she replied.

She watched as Rachel's eyes traveled over her sweat glistened skin. Her shirt was clinging to her and she was still slightly breathless. Rachel's tongue came out to lick her bottom lip. Quinn swallowed and forced herself to remain standing there.

"You aren't, by any chance, avoiding me, are you?" Rachel then asked.

Quinn shook her head in denial. "No!" she quickly denied. "I just needed to be alone. Running always is the best medicine for me."

Rachel nodded. "Good, because I don't want you to avoid me. My big mouth shouldn't have to end our friendship."

Quinn inclined her head and scoffed softly. "Friendship, yes," she croaked. Then she stepped towards Rachel until she was standing directly in front of her. She licked her lips at the look of longing on Rachel's face. "Well, you should get going. I have to…take a shower, anyway. And then dinner."

Despite that, they didn't move. They didn't take their eyes off one another. The tension between them was at a high tide. They were in fucking public. Quinn clenched her jaw and nodded, shouldering past Rachel and climbed up the steps to stand at the threshold. She paused and then turned around to see that Rachel was staring at her.

Quinn opened her mouth and closed it again. Then she inhaled deeply and opened her mouth. "Are you going to say it?"

Rachel blinked. She seemed to be taking a moment to process what Quinn had said and when she finally got it, her eyes widened by a fraction. As Quinn had expected, Rachel was brave.

Because, " _I love you_."

" _Lucy Quinn, do not ever be ashamed when you feel the opposite of brave. It's human nature. However, you have to stomp it down and make yourself brave. It's human nature too."_


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel's voice echoed inside her head. It hadn't stopped since the moment Rachel had spoken those words. They just kept playing over and over in a never ending loop. She could hear it when she was eating. She could hear it when she was studying. She could hear it when she was in the bathroom. She could hear it everywhere.

" _I love you_ ," Rachel had said. And then she had left, leaving Quinn standing alone at the threshold of her house, her emotions hovering somewhere between stunned and unsurprised.

Quinn's stomach fluttered every time Rachel's words cycled their way through her mind, which, of course, practically meant her stomach had been fluttering all night and day. She couldn't even focus on batting during her baseball game because Rachel kept telling her she loved her in her head. And that was how she found herself currently standing on the sidelines, having her ass handed to her by Coach Beiste.

Coach Beiste finally let her off with a grunt five minutes later, and she dragged herself towards the girls' locker room, collapsing on the bench in front of her locker. She leaned her head against the cool metal door, creating a light clanking noise. She sighed and closed her eyes to gather her wits. It was quiet in the locker room, since everyone had already gone home.

" _I love you."_

Her eyes shot open in aggravation. Why the hell was her mind being such a broken record today? What the hell was her conscious trying to say? She groaned loudly. She decided she needed caffeine. Stat. She stood up and unlocked her locker, grabbed her necessities and made her way to the showers.

She pulled on clean clothes ten minutes later and grabbed her stuff before walking out. The hallways were empty, save the few students who still had club activities and teachers who were finishing up leftover work. She waved goodbye to Miss Avery through the open door of her classroom, who waved back. She headed out the front doors and stopped in her tracks when she saw her friends lingering at her car.

She squinted in confusion and headed in their direction. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Come on, let's head to the dock," Puck suggested boisterously.

"Why?" Quinn asked cautiously.

Finn smiled warmly and pointed towards Santana who was looking up at the sky while pretending to be indifferent. "She told us what happened at the game. And we know that as uninterested as you are in baseball – or anything else, for that matter – you are a great batter."

Quinn shrugged. "So? People make mistakes all the time."

"For the entire game?" Brittany interjected skeptically. "Quinn, I may not be the brightest here but I'm not actually dumb." Santana smirked. "Come on, Quinn! San brought a six-pack and we don't have to talk. It's going to be just like last time."

The shorter blonde couldn't help but smile in adoration. She shook her head helplessly. She shoved Santana away from the backseat door and opened it, throwing her bag in. "Fine, I'll see you at the dock."

Finn and Puck cheered and high fived, being the simple-minded boys they were. They all parted ways, moving toward their respected vehicles; Santana patted her on her shoulder as she passed by. Quinn got into her own car and revved the engine. She figured that alcohol could probably do a much better job in silencing her mind than caffeine.

That did not mean the voice had stopped. She was beginning to think that she was going crazy. There really was no other way to explain the fucking thing going on inside her head. She huffed and stepped harder on the pedal, speeding up. It was no surprise when she ended up being the first to reach the dock, followed by her friends not two minutes later.

Just like it was on Thanksgiving, the dock was quiet. Not a single soul was there besides them. The water was making quiet, lapping noises against the dock. It was peaceful, unlike her brain. She sat in the same spot she had on Thanksgiving and motioned for them to hurry. She needed the alcohol. It was probably too early to get buzzed, but a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do when she had an older woman's voice in her head ranting on and on about being in love.

Puck threw a can in her direction and she caught it with wonderful precision, instantly cracking it open and taking a large swig. They joined her, huddled around the bench. As they promised, they didn't talk or do anything close to talking. They simply sat there, drank, and watched birds shit into the water.

Two cans later, the effects of the Budweiser started taking its toll. Her vision went slightly out of focus. Her hand and leg coordination went slightly wonky. She figured her speech was starting to slur too, judging by how her tongue felt kind of numb. But most importantly, Rachel's voice was gone. She briefly wondered how she was going to drive back home in this state.

She looked down at her wristwatch and saw four hands pointing in four directions. The numbers had doubled. She raised her brow and simply lowered it. She looked around her and saw that Brittany was staring at her in amusement. She looked sober.

"Are you sober?" Quinn asked quietly.

Brittany nodded. "I have to drive them all back later." To prove her point, she gestured at their friends. Puck had two more cans scattered around him and he was…playing with his fingers. Quinn frowned. Finn was already snoring. Santana looked way out of focus.

"What time is it?"

Brittany lifted Quinn's hand to look at her watch. "5:15," she announced.

Quinn burped. She fumbled in her pocket to fish out of her phone. She squinted and unlocked her phone with some effort. And then she dialed a number, her sister's, if she wasn't wrong.

"Hello?" The call was picked up after one ring.

"Hey!" she said loudly with a silly grin. She swallowed. "Hey, sis! I'm at the dock! I don't think I can drive right now." She swallowed again and shook her head. "Um, so uh…can you come pick me up?"

There was a pause. Maybe Frannie was shocked or angry. Quinn couldn't care less. "I'll be there."

She hung up and stuffed her phone inside her pocket. She downed the remainder of her drink and then tossed it away. She decided she needed to take this time to get as sober as she possible while waiting for her sister or she would be in big trouble when she reached home.

"I don't know how to identify my own feelings," she revealed quietly, only loud enough for Brittany to hear. Brittany side-eyed her while stroking her hand up and down Santana's arm. "It's burgeoning inside me, ready to explode. But I don't know what it is. I don't know how to respond to it."

There was a few seconds of silent contemplation on both sides before Brittany asked, "I'm gonna assume this is about that tutor."

Quinn was too buzzed to even be aware of the fact that Brittany  _knew_  about the tutor. So she nodded lazily.

"You love her," Brittany continued.

Quinn frowned. "But that's not possible. It's too fast."

"You can't control your heart, honey," Brittany replied in amusement. "It's just like how I was with Santana. We were like, scissoring –" Quinn grimaced " – and then Santana was like shouting my name and I just knew that I'm brain over feet in love with her."

"I think you meant 'head over heels'."

"Isn't that what I just said?" Quinn decided to let it go. "My point is, Quinn, you love the tutor. Even if you might not know it, I'm pretty sure you are, because I just know things." She was right. In their years of friendship, Brittany had rarely been wrong about things she claimed she  _knew_. It stopped surprising her. "But don't rush though. You're not a racecar. You have all the time in the world. Go with it."

"I'm about to graduate, Britt," Quinn mentioned.

Brittany scoffed. "As long as you want it, petty graduations shouldn't stop you from getting it."

"Family?"

The dancer squinted. Quinn only stared ahead, waiting for a reasonable answer from Brittany the philosopher. "They're your family," was what Brittany said. Quinn expected more, but it stopped there.

"That's it?"

"They're your  _family_ ," Brittany emphasized, shoving Quinn lightly on the shoulder. "They love you. And yes, they will be so pissed when they learn about your possible relationship with this tutor of yours. But they _love_  you. And you can't just…cut off blood ties that easily. Give them time. They'll learn to accept, or at least tolerate."

"What if they don't?"

"Then you have  _us_." Brittany patted Santana's arm with one hand and then shoved Finn's head with the other, earning a light groan. "We're here for you. And I can promise you that we will never leave you. If you need a place, we have rooms for you. Just come to any of us. If you need money, I'm sure Puck would stop buying that smoke thing and lend you some. I can probably strip dance."

"You're not strip dancing," Quinn said sternly.

Brittany scrunched her face and shrugged. "I don't know, strip dancing's kind of fun. I strip dance for Santana like all the time and we just go to the sexy time right after. Santana does this thing with her –"

"Okay, no, stop," Quinn interjected. "I don't need to hear about your sex life. You are not strip dancing for anyone other than Santana."

"Then Santana will pay me and then I can lend you the money that Santana pays me."

Quinn sighed exasperatedly and rubbed her temple with her fingers. The alcohol in her brain was not helping. "Brittany," she breathed in exasperation.

"We are all here. We will all be here. I mean, we all came here to the dock to get buzzed just for you, Quinn."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

According to the movies, there was supposed to be a big hug and tears and all that sappy crap. But given their current situation, it may be best not to do any of that. Brittany reached out and squeezed Quinn's hand gently with hers. They were enjoying the moment.

Until her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes widened and she sat up straight. "Rachel?"

"I'm at the dock."

"Why are you at the dock?"

"You called me just now. I think you dialed the wrong number. And I was worried about you so I went along with it."

"Wait, I didn't call my sister?"

"No, you called me."

It took Quinn a few moments to comprehend. "Why did I call you?"

Rachel released a frustrated sigh through the phone. "Look, just tell me where you are and I'll drive you home."

"I don't wanna go home." Well, that was spontaneous.

Another sigh. "Fine, tell me where you are and I'll drive you wherever you wanna go." And so, Quinn told Rachel her location. Not five minutes later, she could feel gentle hands on her shoulders and she turned around to see Rachel's concerned face above her. "Come on, Quinn."

At this point, she felt better than she had before. Her mind was less foggy and she finally understood why she had called Rachel instead of her sister. She stood up slowly and saw Brittany was watching in interest. Shit. She'd told Brittany almost everything. Or Brittany had told her that she knew everything. Quinn reminded herself to talk to Santana about the secret policy.

"Brittany," she started, "this is Rachel."

Brittany grinned brightly and waved at the older woman. "Hey, Rachel!" She turned back to Quinn. "San didn't tell me that your Rachel is actually so pretty."

Quinn could imagine the blush on Rachel's face. She smiled at her friend. "I'm gonna go. You make sure they go home safe, okay?"

"Don't worry," Brittany reassured her.

Quinn followed Rachel to her car. Rachel matched her steps with Quinn's slow ones so she wouldn't fall behind. The blonde still felt slightly dizzy from the beer. They were quiet, but Quinn could tell Rachel was kind of angry for some reason. Rachel opened the passenger door for Quinn and slammed it shut when Quinn settled in. She climbed behind the wheel herself and started the car.

"Where do you want to go?" the brunette asked curtly, staring ahead.

"Are you angry?" Quinn asked, ignoring Rachel's question.

"Where do you want to go, Quinn?"

Quinn kept quiet. She wasn't sure where she wanted to go, to be honest. She just didn't feel like going home. She knew she could very probably receive a verbal thrashing from her grandfather, but she could care less right now. Also, Rachel had yet to answer her question.

"Do you know how much trouble you would be in if the cops had found you?" Rachel finally snapped, glaring at Quinn. "Have you even considered the consequences if you had had too much to drink and some stranger just came across you like that? Three weak girls and two very drunken boys? You were easy targets!" Rachel practically screeched. "What were you thinking?"

"I just needed to get my mind off some stuff," Quinn replied, staring back at Rachel, the source of her 'stuff'.

"And you couldn't have found a better way? Drinking? Is that the only way to get your mind off 'some stuff'? Don't you run? You could have gone running! It's healthy and useful, unlike this! You freaking butt-dialed me! That's how drunk you were!"

"I wasn't drunk! I was just…buzzed."

Rachel huffed and Quinn could see her grip on the wheel had tightened considerably. "It doesn't matter! The point is, you should not have been drinking!"

"You don't have any right to tell me what to do," Quinn snapped, her jaw clenched. She was incensed for some reason she had yet to understand. "You could have chosen to  _not_  come. It's not my fault that you wanted to come and pick my drunken ass up."

"That's not what I'm trying to say!"

"Then what are you trying to say, Rachel?"

"I love you!" Rachel practically hollered. The entire world could have heard her if they weren't in the contained space of her car. Quinn's rage left her in an instant.

 _You love her_. "What?"

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and she looked as if she regretted blurting that out. She turned back to face forward. Quinn waited as she looked for the words to convey her thoughts. Then Rachel had a self-deprecating smile on her face.

"I love you," she said with a hollow laugh. "God knows how much I love you."

"Rachel."

"I'm sorry." The brunette licked her lips. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and ran another hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have sprung that on you so suddenly." Another pause. "When you called me, and I heard your voice, I was instantly worried. I didn't have a tutor session with your sister today so I didn't know what happened. The worry I had for you, Quinn, I think I would have ran here on foot if it was faster. But it wasn't. So I had to drive here and stop at traffic lights and allow myself to be almost torn apart because I was worrying over you. And then at the last traffic light, I tried to imagine what my life will be without you. I couldn't. I  _couldn't_ bear to imagine what life would be like if you were gone."

"Rachel."

"I can't just live on knowing that you have only played  _for me_ _ **once**_ **.** "

There was a pang in Quinn's chest. "You won't," she promised.

Rachel looked at her and smiled. "I sure hope so, Quinn."

"I have someplace I'd like show you," Quinn said. Rachel looked at her with curiosity. "Don't worry. Your only kidnapper is me."

Rachel laughed and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Quinn led her down the path off trail. Quinn smiled at the way Rachel was holding onto her hand. Tight and firm. Quinn squeezed it reassuringly and carefully pulled Rachel along with her. And then they reached the cliff. Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand again and released it, sitting down at the edge of the cliff as she usually did.

The sun was setting. She smiled at the view. She turned back to see Rachel looking at the spot next to her warily. She grinned and patted at the empty space beside her.

"I'll catch you if you fall," she reassured.

Rachel scoffed but proceeded to sit down next to her anyway, albeit very carefully. "I'm afraid I'll drag you along with me if I do fall." Quinn grabbed onto the edge of the cliff and leaned forward to look down. "What are you doing?" Rachel shrieked, pulling Quinn back. Quinn laughed and leaned back. "Stop making me worry about you, Quinn Fabray."

""It's not that high by the way. I mean, the worst that can happen would be becoming vegetables."

"And that's not bad?"

Quinn stuck her tongue out and looked out over Lima. "I've never brought anyone here before," she revealed. "Not even Santana." She sighed. "This place is like my spot, ya know. I found it accidentally when I was running. I've been coming here for years."

"Thank you for showing me your spot, Quinn."

"You're welcome," Quinn said without hesitance. "I've had a lot of self-discovery thoughts up here. I've been coming here more often since you showed up in my life." She turned to Rachel with a smile. "Your advice, the piano, my feelings for you et cetera."

"Have you played again since that time?" Quinn shook her head. "Why?" Quinn shrugged. "I hope you'd play more. You are a very talented player, Quinn. And you might even be better than me."

"I  _am_  better than you," Quinn said with a smirk.

Rachel made a dramatic move to shush her. "We don't want people to hear that. My reputation would be ruined." Quinn chuckled. "You said your feelings for me," Rachel brought up a couple of moments later. "What about them?"

Quinn's mirth left her and she looked away from Rachel. "What are you gonna do when I leave for Yale?" she deflected.

"What do you want me to do when you leave for Yale?"

She wanted Rachel to come along with her. She wanted Rachel to give Lima up and go to New Haven with her. She wanted a shoebox apartment with Rachel. She wanted the little and yet huge things in life with Rachel. "I'm not going to be a selfish brat with you, Rachel Berry."

"There's nothing in Lima for me," Rachel said.

"No?"

"My dads have already started their journey around the world and that would take probably two years. They said they'll probably move out of Lima when they come back. I've been considering moving to New York."

"New York's only two hours away from New Haven," Quinn mentioned.

Rachel chuckled. "That it is."

"You should go back to Broadway, Rachel."

"You think so?"

Quinn nodded definitively as she recalled hearing Rachel's beautiful singing on more than one occasion. "I think so."

Rachel hummed and grabbed onto Quinn's forearm, scooting forward a little to see Quinn's profile. "Then maybe I should," she said softly.

Rachel stared ahead and they watched the sun set together.

* * *

Quinn came back home to find Grandpa Fred sitting in his armchair with his arms crossed. He looked genuinely pissed off. Frannie was sitting on the couch, idly flipping through  _Vogue_. She looked up at her younger sister and gave her a look. Quinn shrugged. She was going to face this head on.

Grandpa Fred heard the front door close and turned to her with a withering look. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and walked into the living room, sitting next to Frannie and looking back at her grandfather.

"What time is it, Quinn?" Grandpa Fred asked his voice stern.

"7.30."

Grandpa Fred nodded. "You missed dinner."

"I did."

He released a disappointed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where were you?"

"With Santana and Brittany," she lied.

"You could have at least called home, Quinn," he said. "Just because I gave you freedom doesn't mean you get to take advantage of it. I wouldn't have minded so much if you had just called and told us that you'd be late or something."

"I'm sorry."

"You're lucky your parents aren't home." He stood up and loomed over her for a few seconds. "I don't want a repeat of this, Quinn."

"There won't be," she promised. He nodded curtly and turned to climb up the stairs. Only then did Quinn relax her posture and leaned back against the soft comfort of the couch. She closed her eyes and breathed. "He wasn't yelling and it still felt like he scolded me."

Frannie scoffed. "That's Fred for you," she croaked. "You drank, didn't you?" Quinn didn't bother denying it. "Why'd you drink?"

"Need to get my mind off things," she admitted.

"Care to share?"

She slowly lifted her lids and angled her head towards her sister. "Not yet."

Frannie kept her eyes on her younger sister and her lips twitched. "Must be something," she commented.

Quinn shrugged. "Depends."  _On whether you would go ballistic on me._

"I won't tell you to not drink, Quinn, because that would be useless. I've had my share when I was your age, which was like two years ago. I understand what it's like. But I am advising you, though, that you don't drink too much," Frannie advised. "I don't want to get a call from the hospital one day telling me that my sister's gotten alcohol poisoning."

Quinn squinted into the space. "That's highly unlikely," she said, her voice soft.

Frannie nodded. "It better be."

"Wait, you drank when you were my age?" Frannie nodded. "Where did you find the time?"

"I snuck out."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Alone?"

"No!" Frannie exclaimed. "I mean, I may have been kind of a sheltered child under close surveillance from my parents. But I have learned quite a handful of things from my friends and boyfriends."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Boyfriends?" she whispered dramatically.

"Quinn Fabray, we studied in the same school!"

"I was in middle school at the time!"

"Where the hell did you find the time, Francine? You were practically home every day practicing piano!"

"I had breaks."

"What?" Quinn asked after a moment's pause. Breaks? She didn't know the word even existed in her parents' dictionaries. " _Breaks_?"

Frannie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Quinn, I know that our parents might be the overachieving and uptight ones." Quinn raised her brow in a  _you-don't-say_ expression. "Nevertheless, they still love us. They want what's best for us, sure. But they also want us healthy. And that means giving me breaks, just like I do today."

"Huh."

Frannie closed her magazine and moved to swing her legs off the couch. "Have you eaten dinner yet?" Quinn shook her head. "Mercedes is still here. I think we have some leftovers, or she could whip something up for you."

"Is she angry at me too?"

"Quinn," Frannie said with an endearing smile, "Mercedes could never be angry at you."

She offered her arm to Quinn as she stood up. Quinn took it and pulled herself up, using Frannie's weight. They walked into the kitchen with their arms linked. Mercedes was flitting about in the kitchen, doing whatever it was that she was always doing. The sisters sat on the barstools at the counter. Frannie tapped the surface of the counter quite loudly.

Mercedes startled and spun around, her eyes wide and alarmed. She relaxed when she saw that it was only them. "That was rude," she said, glaring at them, standing akimbo. Frannie shrugged. Mercedes diverted her attention to Quinn. "Where were you?"

"Out."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and huffed. "Oh I didn't know you were out. I thought you found your way up the chimney and had no idea how to come down," she played along.

Quinn displayed a tiny smirk. "Santa Claus sent his reindeers to help me down."

"I will make sure to send a thank-you gift to that kind man." Mercedes sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. "I assume you're here for sustenance."

"You know me so well, dear Mercedes," Quinn crooned.

Mercedes turned around and started pulling pans and ingredients out from different cabinets. Quinn wondered shortly how she managed to remember where everything was with all the cabinets and cupboards in the kitchen. Mercedes grumbled, "I wish I didn't."

* * *

Mercedes and Frannie had both left her alone when she made it clear that she didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering her. Mercedes had made her a humongous BLT that Quinn had devoured without much hesitance because god bless Mercedes' bacon. Mercedes had left half an hour later when Sam came to pick her up.

She and Frannie gossiped up in her room. They talked about the latest music. About friends. Boyfriends. Quinn had pestered Frannie to tell her how many boyfriends she had had and if she had one now.

"I had five boyfriends in my entire high school career." Quinn gasped, as if it was scandalous news. "They were all dimwits with little to no brain function. I guess I dated them because they were hot. Most of them had like, 5% body fat." Quinn whistled. Frannie laughed. "No, I do not have a boyfriend now. Lima is full of dimwits, now that I have realized."

"Are you a virgin?"

It was Frannie's turn to gasp. "Quinn!" Quinn shrugged. Frannie blushed and looked down at her lap as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "No," she murmured.

"Pardon?" Quinn said with a simper.

Frannie rolled her eyes. She looked up at Quinn sternly. "No," she enunciated loudly. "I am not a virgin."

Quinn put her hand to her hand and made a sobbing noise. "I am so proud of you," she said.

"Oh for god's sake." Frannie climbed out of Quinn's bed as she shook her head. "You obviously had too much to drink, baby sister. And I, as the responsible big sister, will let you sleep it off now. Goodnight, Quinn."

Quinn laughed and waved at her sister's retreating back. "Goodbye, my non-virginative sister."

"That's not a word!" Frannie exclaimed, even though she was already out the door.

"It is now! My word is law!"

She heard her sister scoff and laughed again. She showered, changed, checked her e-mail and wrote replies. All in all it took about forty-five minutes. Finally done, she shut her door and turned off the lights and climbed under the covers.

An hour later, she was still very much awake. She looked at the clock on her bedside table and sighed. It was only 12:30 A.M. It was highly likely that she would skip school tomorrow at the rate she was going. Giving in to insomnia, she crawled out of bed. As she made her way through the house, the quietness gave her the creeps. She pushed it off and opened the door to the music room.

She stood at the door, her hand on the knob, and stared at the shiny black musical device. Her fingers wiggled. She took a step in and closed the door behind her. She sat on the bench at the piano and opened the lid, unable to contain her grin as she laid her hands on the black and white rectangular buttons.

The kind of awakening feeling she had whenever she touched the piano was indescribable and irreplaceable.

She opened the recording application on her phone. She closed her eyes for a moment to think of a song she wanted to play to. Then she turned on the recording feature.

And she played.

The piano version of  _Turning Page_ by  _Sleeping At Last_.

It felt like it had only been a blink of an eye when she finished. She opened her eyes slowly and glanced down at the keys. She giggled. She had felt so excited and refreshed when she played. She had felt so practiced and relaxed.

"Music," she muttered.

She remembered her phone recording it and quickly turned it off. Then she opened Rachel's message chat box on her phone. She selected the recording and sent it to Rachel.

 _Now you've heard me play for you twice_.  _– Q_

" _Lucy my star, you are bright and you are young. It is not wrong for you to be rebellious and be mischievous once in awhile. Go out someday in your high school life and drink beer and make out and have protected sex. And then come home and tell me all about it. I may act scandalized, but I will know it is because you are young and you deserve to have fun."_


	10. Chapter 10

Quinn was nearly late for school again. She parked outside the Lima Bean and sprinted inside the shop. There wasn't even time for a sigh of relief as she raced to the counter and hastily placed her order, shoving her money across the counter as she spoke.

As she waited impatiently for her completed order, she surveyed the early patrons of the shop, nearly passing over a pair of familiar faces. She frowned and turned her gaze back. Her eyes widened into comical saucers and she froze on the spot. The pair was too absorbed in their conversation to notice her gawking at them.

She heard her name called and turned to grab her drink, nearly dropping the cup. She spun around to see if the duo had seen her yet, but they were still too wrapped up in their own conversation. Normally she would have gone over to see what was actually going on, but she was completely out of time. And, she thought, maybe Miss Avery could provide her with some answers.

* * *

Quinn practically barged into the classroom. Miss Avery didn't even bother looking at her as she wrote on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

"Take your seat, Miss Fabray," she simply said.

Quinn nodded sheepishly and slunk down into her seat. The bell rang right at that second and Miss Avery turned around, starting the lesson. Quinn tried to concentrate and listen. She tried to understand the notes Miss Avery had jotted down on the board, but her mind kept wandering back to the coffee shop.

In the end, she had barely learned a thing. She decided the best she could do at this point would be to go home and try to make sense of it later. She waited, immobile in her seat, for her classmates to filter out for their next class.

Miss Avery, realizing that Quinn wanted to talk, had gone and locked the door behind the last remaining student. She then took the seat next to Quinn and stared at her questioningly.

Quinn, unable to discern a polite way to phrase her question, decided to just go ahead and blurt it out. "Do you know Rachel Berry?"

Her teacher's eyes flickered with recognition when she heard the name. "Why do you ask?" she asked suspiciously.

"I saw her with your girlfriend at Lima Bean," Quinn answered bluntly. She remembered seeing them so deep in conversation, each with a drink in her hand, that they didn't even notice her gawking at them. "So, do you know Rachel Berry?" she repeated her question.

Miss Avery sank her teeth into her lower lip. If Rachel hadn't come into her life, Quinn would have found that very attractive. "Jem introduced me to Rachel. They were best buds in college, apparently. God knows how, since Jem's like, three years older than Rachel and their personalities are practically  _yin_  and  _yang_. More  _yin_  and  _yang_  than Jem and I."

Quinn raised a brow at that. "Yeah, they are."

Miss Avery narrowed her eyes and propped her chin on her hand. "Why? Do you know her?" Quinn kept mum and gave her teacher a look. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Miss Avery grinned in amusement and she barked out a laugh. "Seriously?"

"This isn't funny!" Quinn protested.

Miss Avery didn't even bother to keep the grin off her face. "It kind of is." Quinn huffed and crossed her arms. "You know, Jem told me that Rachel talked to her about liking a much younger person. I just didn't know it would be you."

"Yeah well, it's a small world."

"I'm surprised Jem hadn't told Rachel to kiss you right away."

"Miss Avery!"

"What?" Miss Avery exclaimed. "I mean, Jem took action and kissed me right in that hallway. I don't think she even feels sorry about the fact that we could have been caught and probably expelled and fired respectively."

"The fact that the woman I like is talking about me with your girlfriend is disconcerting," Quinn stressed.

Miss Avery only stared at her. "That won't make a difference." She held up a finger before Quinn could say anything. "And don't tell me to tell Jemma to stop talking to Rachel. They're practically glued at the hip. And I'm not going to stop my girlfriend from having a social life, for Pete's sake."

"I wasn't going to ask you to tell Miss Simmons to stop talking to Rachel," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

"Didn't she ask you to call her Jemma?"

Quinn rolled her eyes again. "Really?"

Miss Avery looked chastised and amused. She smirked, motioning for Quinn to continue.

Quinn sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Just tell Jemma thank you for me." Miss Avery frowned. "I  _know_  this attraction can't be easy for Rachel. She'd told me that much." Quinn crossed her arms over the desk and leaned forward, resting her chin atop her arms. "So I'm glad she has someone to talk to."

"What about  _you_?" Miss Avery asked softly.

Quinn closed her eyes and breathed gently and slowly. What about  _her_? "I have Santana and Brittany. And sometimes even Finn and Puck." Then she opened her eyes and tilted her head to look at Miss Avery. "You may be my teacher, Miss Avery, but you're my confidante as well."

Miss Avery's expression softened. "I'm honored." The bell rang, signaling the start of another class. "I have a feeling you're not in the mood to go to class right now." Quinn smiled sheepishly. "God, I hope I don't get fired for having a favorite student," Miss Avery muttered under her breath as she stood up and went for her desk.

Quinn laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Writing you a pass," Miss Avery said. When she was done, she returned to her seat and handed the pass to Quinn. "It's for the whole day."

"Really?"

"Just this once, Quinn," Miss Avery warned. "No more free passes in the future."

Quinn had a skeptical look on her face but she nodded anyway. "Thanks."

"Why did you ask me that question anyway?"

"I saw them at Lima Bean when I was getting coffee on my way here."

Miss Avery nodded. "Jem did tell me about meeting with Rachel before going to work." She waited a second. "You want to know what I think?" Quinn inclined her head. "I think it's great that it's Rachel. I may not know her as well as Jem does but I do know her. She's what I would consider a family friend."

"You're not even married," Quinn quipped.

Miss Avery scowled at her student. "Don't be rude, Quinn," she said, her face stern but her voice playful. "Rachel has been through a rough patch in her life." Quinn nodded, knowing what Miss Avery was referring to. "Sometimes, we would have jam sessions in my living room and goodness, that girl can  _sing_."

"I've heard her. She's an amazing singer."

"Ever since her divorce, Quinn, her life had been on a standstill. Her marriage, and then her divorce, had planted a certain fear in her. She's afraid to go out there and reclaim the life she's meant to live. Rachel Berry is meant for Broadway. She's meant for big things! She's not meant to stay here in this godforsaken town and be a piano tutor to preppy kids."

"We are  _not_  preppy!" Quinn protested.

" _I'm just saying,"_ Miss Avery replied. "Anyway, Jem had been so worried about her that she got me worried too. She hasn't been genuinely happy for years. And then one night we invited her over for dinner, and she told me about her new student. She mentioned the student's family. She also managed to say more about the new student's sister than about the new student." Miss Avery smirked when she saw how Quinn's eyes twinkled. "After that, every time we talk to her, she just seems happier and lighter. It isn't until today that I realize that the reason behind her growing happiness is _you._ "

"Is she really happier after meeting me?"

"Yes!" Miss Avery insisted. "Ya know, it all makes sense now. Jem kept asking me weird questions about you that night after you both met. I guess she just wanted to know what kind of girl her best friend fell in love."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her you're a clumsy brat with no sense of time management in your bones." At the horrified look on Quinn's face, Miss Avery laughed. "I'm kidding."

"Har har, very funny."

"No, I told her you're a very nice girl. You're sweet. You're smart. So smart that I'm not surprised you're valedictorian of your class." Quinn smiled at that. "Anyone would be lucky to have met and known you as an acquaintance."

Quinn was filled with gratitude when she heard Miss Avery's thoughts on her. Her eyes welled up and she hurriedly swiped at them with her palm. She inhaled deeply and exhaled. A veil of silence hung over them for the next twenty minutes.

"Why did you choose to stay here in Lima?" Quinn asked. "I mean, you said it yourself, this is a godforsaken town."

Miss Avery's smile dimmed a fraction. She looked down, staring at her hands as she spoke. "I was a foster kid," she began. "I had quite a few foster families who were not that nice." Quinn saw her jaw visibly clenched. "Until I moved into this family. It's not exactly a family, just a man. My foster father. He was…very much unlike the other families I've lived with. He was kind and loving. He got me into high school, and then provided money for me to go to college." Miss Avery took a shuddering breath and swallowed. "He developed liver cancer two years ago. I had just graduated Ohio State. Jem and I planned to move to New Haven but…I couldn't just leave him here like that."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. He uh…he passed away last year. It was too hard a battle for him."

"I'm sorry," Quinn repeated.

Miss Avery smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Quinn hesitated. She took the leap anyway. "Was he…okay with your relationship with Jemma?"

Miss Avery laughed. "He may have been a father with unorthodox method, but he was not  _that_  unorthodox." Miss Avery looked as if she was recalling a sweet memory. "He was very against it in the beginning. Jem and I broke up once because of him. I was miserable. She was miserable. I was so angry at him. I guess my very apparent misery changed his mind and he very reluctantly accepted my feelings for her. But as time passed and they spent more time together, he grew to genuinely like her as a person and as my girlfriend."

Quinn smiled, a hint of jealousy blossoming in her chest. "It must be nice, mustn't it? To have such a considerate parent?"

Miss Avery turned to her. She stared at Quinn for a moment, taking in her words and her tone. "Your parents love you, Quinn."

The blonde looked away from her teacher and to the whiteboard. "Everybody keeps saying that," she murmured.

"They're right."

Quinn thought back to her father's sternness towards her when she was still playing. Russell Fabray had not been an orthodox father either. And she meant that in the bad way. Quinn could count the number of times he displayed even a hint of affection towards her on five fingers. It only got worse after she had gone quiet.

Whereas her mother, who might have not been as strict and hard as her husband, but wasn't much different. Every time Quinn saw her, there would be a glass of whiskey or vodka or  _something_  in her hand. Judy Fabray was always tipsy. She was conscious, but she was always mildly tipsy. Quinn had wanted to snatch the glass from her hand and smash it against the wall countless times. Whenever Russell insulted her directly or indirectly, Judy had never tried to stand up for her.

They had never physically abused her, but physical abuse was not the only way to abuse a child. For her entire life, she oftentimes wondered if her parents had truly loved her, or if she was only an ornament for display in the family.

Then there was this year. Russell had somehow changed. The change wasn't obvious, but she could see it. They were so alike that it would be stupid for her to fail to see the subtle change in her father. It only happened after Rachel's arrival in the family. He was no longer as stern towards her. He called her personally twice. He had told her he loved her. He told her he was sorry for not being able to spend time with them. He  _hugged_  her before he left.

"So they love me," Quinn agreed quietly. "That doesn't mean they'll keep on loving me if they find out. I'm already a disappointment to the family."

"A parent never stops loving their child, no matter the circumstances. Unless they are mentally incapable in one way or another, which I doubt your parents are." Miss Avery tilted her head. "I know what you're trying to say. You come from a sophisticated family, a family with class. Your family has contributed in the running of this town. You are required, as a Fabray, to tag along with this freak show. It is harder for you, undoubtedly."

"Which is why I don't see how they're not gonna burn me like a witch if they find out."

"That's a little bit harsh, don't you think?"

Quinn shrugged. "My parents are unpredictable."

Miss Avery was silent for the next ten or more seconds. "They're your  _parents_ , Quinn," she whispered in the end. Quinn turned back to her teacher. "Parents don't just leave their kid out on the streets to die."

"What if mine do?" Quinn whispered. She could feel the water in her eyes, the sourness in her chest and the lump in the throat.

"Rachel has my number. Just call me if anything happens, which I doubt will."

Quinn frowned. She swallowed the lump and cleared her throat. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Miss Avery smiled gently. "I'm sure Jem wouldn't mind."

Before she could stop herself, she'd already moved out of her chair and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman. "Thank you," she choked.

Miss Avery hugged her back and said, "You're welcome."

* * *

Frannie was taken aback when Quinn came through the front door. She ignored her sister's eyes on her and, instead, removed her boots, put them in the walk-in closet, turned back around and forward marched into the kitchen, ignoring Frannie all the way.

The door to the wine cellar was open, so she followed the stairs down inside. She could hear Mercedes belting out Aretha Franklin through the aisles. She chuckled and shrugged the sling of her bag higher up her shoulder as she followed the direction of Mercedes' voice.

"What do you do here all day?" she immediately asked when she saw Mercedes rearranging the wine bottles on the shelves.

Mercedes' voice turned into a yelp and she swung around so quick that she stumbled slightly when she stopped. Her eyes were so wide you would have thought she'd seen a ghost. "Quinn!" Mercedes exclaimed, "Mother of God, you almost gave me a heart attack."

Quinn winced and grinned abashedly. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Mercedes huffed and put the bottle she was holding back into the shelf. "What are you doing here? Did you skip school? Quinn Fabray, I taught you better than that!"

"I don't feel too hot. I got a pass anyway so it's good."

"What kind of pass would allow you to skip school?"

"An all-day pass," Quinn smirked.

Mercedes gasped. "I gotta talk to that teacher of yours for pampering you too much."

Quinn stuck her tongue out. She looked around her and looked back at the housekeeper. "So, what do you do here all day?"

"I dance with the bottles."

"Pardon?"

"Look, the only adult in this house that I can actually  _talk_  to is your mother. And your mother's not around. Your grandfather is always in his office or out. I'm starting to think he got himself a girlfriend. Your sister is always practicing with Rachel. And you! You're always out running or moping in your room or something that entirely does not involve me. I'm bored out of my mind." Mercedes gestured at the bottles around. "I find it peaceful down here and I can sing as loud as I want and I find all these bottles friendlier than you and your sister and your grandfather combined."

Well, when she put it like that…Quinn felt guilt emerging in her heart. She pouted exaggeratedly and moved forward to hug Mercedes. She had her arms around the woman before she could even get a word of protest out.

"I missed you too," Quinn whined into her ear.

"Get off me," Mercedes snapped, even though there was not a single trace of malice in her tone. Quinn complied and smiled at the woman. "What do you want?"

"Nah, I just wanted to look at the pretty housekeeper."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Quinn gasped and put her hand to her chest. "Oh, you hurt me so."

"Quinn."

The blonde stilled. The grin froze on her face. Her breathing grew erratic and she swallowed. "I'm terrified," she whispered to Mercedes.

Mercedes' brows met at the bridge of her nose. She pursed her lips and gently led Quinn out of the aisles of wine shelves and sat her down on the couch. "Do you need a drink?" she asked gently.

Quinn laughed dryly. "Are you encouraging me to consume alcohol before I am of legal age?"

"Your father does it. And you look like you need one."

There was a moment where the blonde really considered accepting Mercedes' offer. But in the end, she declined. "No, thanks."

"So, do you want to share? Or do you just want to sit here because you don't wanna feel so alone right now?"

Quinn looked up at her and smiled. "How did you get so wise?"

Mercedes shrugged. "I've had four decades of experience, sweetie. It comes with age." Quinn nodded in understanding. "Does this have anything to do with Rachel?"

"Somewhat."

"Somewhat?"

"I know a lot of people have been telling me this. I know I should listen and take it to heart at this point," Quinn began. "You told me there's nothing wrong with it if our feelings are mutual." Mercedes hummed in agreement. "Santana told me I have a fetish for older people," Mercedes laughed at that, "but I should do what I want. And then there's Brittany practically told me that I love her."

It didn't take Mercedes long to understand the problem Quinn was facing. "Here's the thing about you, Quinn," Mercedes spoke. "You listen to people. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but in your case, it's a little too much. Stop looking at others for directions. Whatever we tell you regarding this, we're only advising you. We're not really  _telling_  you what to do. It's your goddamn life, Quinn. Take charge of it yourself."

"Is that an advice or an order?" Mercedes gave her a stern look. "Is it even possible to 'take charge of it myself' when I'm a Fabray?" she quoted.

"Your last name does not define you. And  _that_  is a fact. And this time, I am  _telling_  you to not allow your last name to stop you from moving forward and have a  _life_."

"I guess," Quinn mumbled.

Mercedes seemed to be hesitating about something. Quinn raised her brow at the hesitant look on her face. "Your sister told me she heard you playing the other night," Mercedes admitted. Quinn's eyes widened. Mercedes nodded in confirmation. "She recorded you playing and played it for me. And the whole time when we were listening to the recording, she looked so proud and happy."

"Oh my god."

"I'm just saying, not all Fabrays are as bad as you think, yourself included."

* * *

Quinn had sent Rachel the recording of her playing 2 days ago, and it had been that long since she had seen her. She still hadn't mentioned to Frannie that she knew she had been caught playing the other night. Her father did call the night after she'd talked to Miss Avery and Mercedes.

They were coming back two days later if everything went according to plan.

Quinn propped her elbows on the railing as she stood on the patio. She felt the gentle fingers of the breeze as it grazed her face, dipping into the hollows of her thin white button down. She crossed her ankles and supported herself against the railing. She closed her eyes and tuned into the sounds of her sister practicing with Rachel.

She briefly wondered if they remembered to close the door.

Sometime later, the piano stopped. She lazily lifted her lids and looked out at the green grass. Eventually, footsteps sounded behind her. Slow, languid footsteps that she'd grown familiar to. She chose to play ignorant and didn't turn around to greet the interrupter of her peace.

She heard the door panel creak tacitly, as if someone had put weight on it.

"Thank you," the person broke the silence.

Quinn's lips quirked and she calmly pushed herself off the railing and turned around, leaning her back against it once again. "For what?" she asked Rachel.

Rachel fished out her phone from her pocket and waved it in the air. "Thank you for reminding me how much talent you have in you and giving me the privilege of listening to you play for the second time."

Quinn hummed. "Yeah, you might not get another chance for that in the future."

Rachel chortled. "Now, why do I doubt that?"

"Probably because you're an overconfident woman."

"Overconfident?" Rachel looked skeptical.

Quinn scoffed. "Yes, overconfident, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head in amusement. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. "In all seriousness though, I loved it." She shrugged. "Reminded me of why I was so fascinated and attracted to you in the first place." Quinn blushed. "Reminded me of why I can't ever get you off my mind no matter how hard I try."

The blonde worried her teeth into her lower lip. "You shouldn't talk like that, risking people hearing it."

"Like who?

"Um, like my sister? Or Gramps?"

"Your sister's taking a nap. She told me to come find you out here if I want to talk to you. Your grandfather is out, as always. What does he do anyway?"

Quinn made a face. "Hell if I know."

"Why did you choose to play that song?" Rachel queried. "I was immensely intrigued when I heard what you were playing. It was very…singular," she concluded after a long pause.

"Can't I play it because I love it?"

Rachel's brows rose. "Of course you can." She then pushed away from the door panel and made a daring move to amble towards Quinn. They were so close that Quinn could see the freckles scattered across Rachel's cheeks. "But I have spent the last two days thinking about it. And I hope I'm not reading too much into things, but I think there's something more than the fact that you love it."

"You think?" Quinn quipped. Rachel acquiesced. "What if you thought wrong?"

"Then I would step away." Quinn nearly shook her head in disagreement to Rachel's suggestion. "And I will apologize. After that, I will give you as much time as you need to figure out your feelings." Lord, why was this woman so damn considerate and nice?

"What if you thought right?" Quinn breathed, her voice wobbly.

Rachel made an indistinctive noise in her throat. "I would do the one thing I've wanted to do for a long time."

Suddenly, as though by divine plan, Quinn felt her surroundings getting hotter by the second. Beads of sweat formed on her skin, threatening to roll down. She watched as Rachel's eyes darkened, almost ominous.

"Say it," she whispered.

Without a second of hesitation, Rachel stated, "I love you."

Quinn grabbed onto the lapels of Rachel's jacket and yanked the older woman towards her, surprising even herself. She covered Rachel's mouth with hers, Rachel's response was immediate. It was clumsy at first; their teeth knocking against one another and their hands not knowing where to land.

They found their rhythm eventually. Rachel planted her hands on Quinn's hips, her grip tight and firm. Quinn's grasp on the lapels loosened, her hands haltingly sliding their way up Rachel's chest and around her neck, interlocking them behind Rachel's neck.

The brunette's mouth was so warm, the caress of her lips softer than she could have imagined. Quinn could taste the raspberry lip balm on Rachel's lips and she savored in it. Rachel's tongue probed at her lips, begging for an entrance. Quinn released a moan and complied as she pulled Rachel closer, stumbling against the railing. Luckily for them, the railing was high enough to prevent their fall.

Quinn giggled against Rachel's lips. Rachel took the opportunity to dip her tongue into the crests of Quinn's lips. Quinn realized that tongues could be very versatile, or maybe it was just Rachel. Each flick of it was a tease. Their noses would bump on occasion and they would tilt their heads in unison without breaking apart.

God knows how long later, Quinn began to despise the need for lungs to require oxygen to function. They drew away from each other slowly and rested their foreheads together. Quinn had her eyes closed and she could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. She panted, feeling Rachel's pants tickle her own lips.

"Does that mean I thought right?"

Quinn's eyes opened at Rachel's barely whispered words. "I love you," she answered instead.

" _Luce honey, when a person is willing to risk themselves for you, it is worth it_."


	11. Chapter 11

_Damn it._

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Jesus Christ._

All of these expletives, even the name of the big guy above, sprinted back and forth across her brain about 2 thousand times as she stared at Rachel's sleeping face from her side of the car. She looked so peaceful like this; her face was worry free, unmarred by laugh lines, or stained by frowns. Just a look of complete peace. And  _beautiful_. God, Quinn wondered if she had ever seen anyone as magnificent as the woman in front of her.

They had run out the front door, like April and Jackson from  _Grey's Anatomy_  had, and hopped into Rachel's car. Rachel had driven them to the trail, but they were unable to get down it. She wasn't positive who made the first move but one of them must have, because they ended kissing more, tasting each other, satisfying their craving for one another. And then when they needed a breather, they leaned back to their seats and stayed in silence, playing with each other's fingers.

The day turned suddenly turned dark and they were sitting out here at seven in the evening. Rachel had fallen asleep. And now Quinn was staring at her and screaming expletives in her head.

She kissed Rachel Berry.

She actually laid her lips over the lips of Rachel Berry.

Their lips touched.

Her tongue was inside Rachel Berry's mouth.

Their hands touched parts of each other's bodies where they were not allowed to touch before.

It was undeniably the most exhilarating thing she had ever done. It had ignited a blue flame. It sped across her nerve endings, setting the most tormenting and exquisite fire all over her. Kissing Rachel Berry had set the colors in her life more vibrant than ever.

It had also opened a lot of doors: doors to joy and doors to trouble.

Quinn knew that once they'd taken this step, it would be impossible for them to rescind it. One kiss had instilled a hunger; a need, an addiction in her. An addiction to see and touch and kiss Rachel. To feel Rachel.

Even now, staring at Rachel sleeping, she wanted to wake her up and devour those lips.

Quinn knew that even though they had kissed, it didn't solve any of the problems this…relationship would bring upon them. It didn't matter that she loved Rachel. It didn't matter that Rachel loved her. It didn't matter because what they had would still be taboo to society and to her family.

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose and looked away from Rachel. She released a whoosh of breath and closed her eyes.

What was she gonna do?

She swallowed and opened her eyes. She stared at the stereo clock and watched as the zero turned to one. She wished she could stop time. She wished she could stay here forever with Rachel. She wished the world wasn't so judgmental and nosey. She wished she could have a life with Rachel. She wished for a lot of things.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt her hand being gripped. She gasped a little and turned to Rachel, who was looking at her with a worried expression. Quinn swallowed and turned her hand so she could tangle her fingers with Rachel's, eager to feel the familiarity of Rachel holding her hand.

"The sound of your thoughts is so loud that it woke me up," Rachel mumbled in a sleep heavy voice.

Quinn smiled apologetically and squeezed Rachel's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rachel frowned slightly. Quinn instantly wanted to wipe it away so she could return Rachel's face to its previous state of peacefulness. "Quinn Fabray, you think  _too much_."

The blonde bit her lip and sighed. "How could I not?"

Silence hovered over them for a couple more minutes. Then Rachel popped her lips and said, "Whatever you decide to do, Quinn. I'll be right here for you."

Quinn turned away from Rachel. "Part of me wants to say that we can't do this again; that it was wrong, it was a mistake." She could practically feel the disappointment from Rachel, but she kept going. "I want to say that this is it. This is over. It was a big mistake. We shouldn't have let it happened. Because it doesn't matter if you don't care, people are gonna be coming at us like wolves. They're gonna say things about us. They're gonna throw food at us. And they will probably call the cops and have you arrested."

"Quinn." Rachel's voice was strained.

She looked back at Rachel and squeezed her hands. "But I can't," she said softly, almost a whisper. Rachel's eyes widened. "I know what it's like to kiss you. I know what it's like to finally admit my feelings for you run much deeper than I originally thought. I  _know_  and I can't un-know it. I  _won't_."

"So what do you want now?"

"I want you," Quinn replied unhesitatingly. "I also want my family to understand and love me in their odd and infuriating ways. I want so many things."

Rachel sighed. "Despite my seeming nonchalance before, Quinn, you and I both know we cannot go on like this. The secrecy, the sneaking around, it will eventually tear us apart."

"I know."

"I love you."

Quinn smiled and nodded. She would never be tired of hearing those words from Rachel's lips. "I love you too. Let's just take it one step at a time, okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

Quinn leaned over the console and took Rachel's lips with hers, setting herself on fire again.

* * *

Rachel brought her back home soon after. Quinn threw her a meaningful glance and got out of the car. She avoided turning back to look at Rachel as she walked up the patio steps, afraid that she would run off the patio and pull Rachel out of the car just to kiss her again if she did.

She literally yelped when she saw her parents sitting in the living room with her sister and her grandfather. Her eyes widened slightly and she stood there, frozen. Her parents turned to look at her at the sound of her yelp. Her sister was stifling her laughter while Grandpa Fred was staring at her in amusement.

"Hello, Quinnie," her mother greeted with a small smile.

Her father only looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Quinn licked her lips and briefly recalled the feeling of Rachel's lips against them. She mentally slapped herself and got the image out of her head. She was quite honestly gob smacked and she felt as though she couldn't speak at all. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before her father saved her – ironically.

"Where have you been?" he asked his tone stable and lackluster.

She blinked and she cleared her throat. She couldn't very well tell her family that she'd been out swapping spit with her sister's piano tutor. "I uh…Santana," she mentally apologized to her best friend for using her. "She called me on emergency. Said she had problems with…Brittany's cat." She kept herself from wincing at the terrible lie.

Russell's brow rose – the patented Fabray eyebrow raise. "Brittany's cat?"

Quinn groaned inwardly and figured she might as well keep on at it. "Yeah, she was helping Britt to take care of Lord Tubbington and she realized she didn't have any kibble and she asked me to get some for her. And I ended up at her place taking care of the cat with her until now."

She risked a glance over her parents' heads to her sister who was sitting at the armchair. Frannie was giving her a mocking thumbs up.  _Nice one_ , Frannie mouthed.

Quinn wanted to lunge across the room and strangle the girl. Instead, she stood where she was and hoped to god that her parents would buy her story. "Your friend has a cat named  _Lord Tubbington_?" Her father's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Of all the crap she'd just spat out, he chose to focus on  _that_. She gave a scoff and shrug. "I know right." In an attempt to steer the subject away from her, she threw her keys into the bowl by the door and headed towards them. "When did you get back?" she asked.

Judy stood up and wrapped her up in a tight hug. When she released her daughter, she replied in kind of a sad tone, "Your father was done with his conference last night. We decided this morning to take a stroll around the area. We just got back a half an hour ago."

Quinn nodded. "That's sweet," she commented. Really, she never knew her father would be the kind of person to  _take a stroll_  and do nothing meaningful. It wasn't like him. She took a second to ponder whether something was  _really_  wrong with him.

"Have you eaten dinner?" he asked her. She shook her head. He nodded and then stood up. "Alright, let's have dinner then." He sounded tired.

They talked about her parents' trip. They talked about how far Frannie had progressed during their absence. They talked about how they spent their Thanksgiving. Occasionally, she would catch her mother sending her father a concerned look to which he would shake his head reassuringly.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a rest? You must be exhausted after the plane ride," Grandpa Fred suggested.

Without a second of hesitance, her mother agreed and quickly stood up, throwing the napkin on the table before heading upstairs with her father. She watched as Judy looped her arm through Russell's, as though she were supporting him as he walked. Quinn frowned slightly, barely visible.

She then excused herself to help Mercedes with the dishes.

When they were done, they retreated to their own corners, though Quinn stayed in the kitchen to keep Mercedes company. She suddenly didn't want to leave the woman by herself and let her bore herself to death. Quinn sat on a stool at the island and watched Mercedes finish some last-minute chores before Sam came. She had a jar of cookies in her arms as she looked on.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?" Mercedes finally asked, getting tired of seeing Quinn nibbling on a cookie each time she looked at her.

"Keeping you company," Quinn stated matter-of-factly. Mercedes gave her a look. "I'm being honest!" she protested.

Mercedes relented. "Where did you go this evening?"

"To Santana's," Quinn lied again.

Mercedes smirked and shook her head. "I saw you and Rachel running out of the house like you were running away to elope." Quinn's eyes widened by unimaginable fractions, her teeth had paused chewing on the cookie she had in her mouth. "Don't worry. I won't say a word."

Quinn sighed in relief. "Thank you," she whispered, having finally swallowed the cookie.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Quinn gulped. She didn't know how Mercedes was going to handle it if she told her. Mercedes may be open-minded and accepting of this thing she had with Rachel, but she didn't know how Mercedes would react to the whole kissing thing.

"You kissed, didn't you?"

 _Saved by the bell_. Quinn grinned timidly. "Yes?" she confirmed, in the opposite of firm way.

Mercedes chuckled and patted her clasped hands. "It's okay, Quinn. You don't have to be afraid in my presence. I may be old but I can take it."

"You're not  _that_  old," Quinn protested.

"Aw, thank you, boo." Quinn rolled her eyes. "So how was it?"

Quinn would deny it later on but she actually giggled. "I know I haven't kissed a lot of people in my life," she started and she could see the smirk starting to tug on Mercedes' lips, "but I can honestly say she's the best kisser I've ever met." It's probably due to the fact that she was in love with the woman as well.

"Well, if this doesn't work out, at least you've gotten some action," Mercedes quipped.

"Mercedes!" Quinn was appalled.

Mercedes grinned and winked. "Oh honey, you're seventeen. Stop acting embarrassed."

Quinn stammered and groaned in the end. "It just…it feels weird to hear those words from your mouth, that's all."

"You just sad I'm not  _that_ old!"

Quinn clicked her tongue. "You practically raised me! You're like my second mother and children are not used to their mothers saying that kind of stuff to them. So excuse me for being a bit weirded out."

"I don't know if I should be offended that you see me as a mother."

Quinn's face turned serious and she grasped Mercedes' hands in hers. "You know as well as I do that I meant it as a compliment." Mercedes smiled tenderly and nodded. "Seriously, I cannot be more thankful for your presence in my life. You've been like my guiding light since childhood."

"Alright, Q, I get it. No need to get all sappy on me."

There was a two-minute reprieve in their conversation before Quinn started it again. "Did Dad say anything when they came back?" The way she worded it turned the sentence into fragment pieces.

Mercedes looked at her knowingly. "He noticed your absence. He asked about you first thing." Quinn hated herself for feeling pleased, but she did. "There's something off about that man, though." Quinn blinked. So she wasn't the only one who noticed it. "Your mother seemed to be extra wary about your father. Not like, afraid of him, but afraid  _for_  him."

Quinn didn't say anything but Mercedes knew her since she was a child, for god's sake.

"But of course, observant you would notice," her housekeeper remarked.

"I don't know if I should ask my parents about it," Quinn mentioned her dilemma. "I'm kind of worried."

"Kind of?" Mercedes sighed. "Honey, you guys may have an abnormal father-daughter relationship. But he is  _still_ your father. You don't have to pretend that you don't care about him." The blonde lowered her head to her folded arms on the island surface. "He loves you very much, you know."

Quinn looked skeptical. "Does he?" Her voice was muffled by the sleeve of her shirt.

Mercedes nodded in certainty. "Of course he does! You're his child!"

"There are people who abandon their children in the dumpsters," Quinn commented.

Mercedes quieted her with a look. "Do you think those people get to live their lives in peace?" Mercedes retorted. "Do you think they spend their days without feeling guilty about what they did? It's despicable, what they did. And they live every day of their lives reliving what they did. And they'll never get their peace of mind." Mercedes sighed. "My point is, Quinn, that your father loves you."

"Sometimes, it really doesn't seem that way to me."

"I don't know how many times I've said this and it really has gotten a little too redundant for me." Mercedes was starting to sound annoyed. "Russell Fabray loves you, Quinn Fabray. I've spent most of my life working for that man and I've spent most of my life watching him giving you all he could so you could have an ideal life."

"An ideal life?" Quinn ridiculed.

"Let me speak!" Mercedes insisted. Quinn shut her mouth. "It's ideal in his eyes. He thought that you being good in school and excelling in piano would build you a bright path for the future. He didn't know he was giving you a lot of baggage and that you'd snapped. He didn't know you actually hated him for taking the fun out of playing. He didn't know anything because you're too afraid to say anything."

"I didn't…" Quinn drifted off. Mercedes was right, Quinn realized as she dwelled longer. She  _hated_  her father for doing those things to her. Her father had practically sucked the life out of her and she  _hated_  him for that. She released a deflating breath. "Okay, I hated him," she relented weakly.

Mercedes nodded matter-of-factly. "I know. And you should." Quinn looked at her in surprise. Mercedes shrugged. "I watched him sucking the life out of you and I hated him myself. You were a  _kid_  and you deserved to have fun. But he had done all those things to  _stop_  you from having fun. And I just…I couldn't forgive him for doing that to a young innocent child like you. I wanted to speak my mind but at that point, I wasn't quite familiar with your family yet and I was just the housekeeper, you know."

"I remember you bringing me to the park once in awhile and I was at a complete loss when we reached the playground."

Mercedes laughed but there was a sad look in her eyes. "Yes. You were like a complete alien." She sobered soon. "I tried to give you as much of a childhood as I could. I brought you the park. I bought you ice-cream. I let you watch cartoons when your father wasn't around. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job."

Quinn grinned at her reassuringly. "You did a spectacular job. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you."

"You're a sweet girl, Quinn." Mercedes patted her head affectionately. "My point, Quinn, is that regardless of how bad your father has been at being a father, he still loves you. And I know it can't be easy, but maybe you should try to talk to him more. Spend some father-daughter time together.  _Forgive him_." Mercedes raised her brows. "And who knows? Doing all that might make it easier when you tell him about Rachel."

Quinn blinked. And it all came back to Rachel. Well, kind of. She hummed, narrowing her eyes.

Mercedes chuckled. Before she could say anything, there was a knock on the backdoor. "Well, that's gotta be Sam," she announced affectionately and went to open the door. Unsurprisingly, there Sam was, standing at the door in his leather jacket and pants, being hot and all.

"How old  _are_  you?" Quinn said ludicrously.

Sam looked amused as he stepped into the kitchen. "Why?"

"You just…" Quinn stammered, her hand gesturing at him from head to toe. "You're  _old_. Old people aren't supposed to have muscles and abs. They're not supposed to  _not_ have paunches!" she exclaimed.

Sam chuckled. "Thank you, Quinn. But I know for a fact that you wouldn't be interested anyway."

Quinn smirked and wiggled her brows playfully. "Doesn't mean I don't enjoy fine specimen when I get to see it."

"Hey!" Mercedes protested, but she had a smile on her face. "The fine specimen's wife is right here!"

"You are one lucky lady, Merc," Quinn drawled.

Mercedes scoffed. She smacked Sam lightly on his chest. "He's the lucky guy."

Sam shrugged and wrapped an arm around his wife. "I am."

The blonde girl rolled her eyes and slipped off her stool. She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh stop being lovey dovey in front of me. I don't like it. Now get your asses out of here and go home and make babies."

"Quinn!" Mercedes gasped.

Quinn stuck her tongue out mischievously. "Bye, Mercedes." She wiggled her fingers.

Mercedes shook her head and waved her goodbye. "Think about what I said, Quinn," she said pointedly as she walked out the door.

Quinn was left on her own in the kitchen. She looked around her. She realized their kitchen was quite spacious. She wandered out of the room and walked around the house. She wondered why exactly her father had bought this house. It wasn't like they needed this much space. In fact, they had two empty rooms in the house.

When she passed by the music room, she heard the piano. She paused in her steps and hesitated when her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. She twisted it and went in anyway.

Frannie was sitting on the bench, playing the piano. Quinn smiled and closed the door behind her. She tiptoed to the sofa and collapsed onto it as she listened to her sister play with her eyes closed. Frannie had yet to notice her new company in the room.

Quinn hummed quietly under her breath. Ever since she started to play again, she began to learn to enjoy music more than she had before. It was probably because this time she was playing for herself instead of winning competitions and bullshit like that.

"Holy shit!" Quinn opened her eyes to see Frannie staring at her wide-eyed with her hand over her heart. She smirked and waved hello. "Quinn Fabray!" Frannie called.

"What?"

Frannie adjusted her glasses. "How long have you been here?"

Quinn bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't actually know."

Frannie huffed with a disapproving frown. "You almost gave me a heart attack back there."

"Well, thank god you're still alive and well," Quinn replied playfully.

Frannie fought to keep the frown on her face but the sight of her sister so relaxed and cheerful brought on an adoring smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I can't listen to my sister play?"

The older Fabray gazed at her for a few moments. She scooted over on the bench and patted on the newly vacated space beside her. Quinn doubted whether or not to oblige but relented and sat. She stared down at the black and white keys.

"Wanna play with me?" Frannie asked softly. Quinn looked up in surprise. Frannie had a soft look on her face. "I missed listening to you play, you know. All these years, I missed it."

"Frannie…"

"Five years ago, Daddy made me play and I didn't want to. Not because I was petulant child, I just didn't want to steal it away from you. I know that even when you stopped, piano is  _yours._  I can't just come in and replace you." Frannie almost looked apologetic. "However, Daddy is still Daddy and I can't defy him. So I played. But I  _know_  that I will never be as good a player as you no matter how much I've practiced. Because I'm just a learner while  _you_ ," Frannie chuckled, "you have it in your blood. You're  _born_  to be a pianist."

Quinn stared at her sister, perplexed. "What are you doing?" she voiced quietly.

Frannie took a deep breath and motioned at the musical instrument in front of them. "Play with me, little sister."

It didn't take long for Quinn to deny her sister's request. "No," she said.

"Why not?"

 _Because I'm not ready to play_ _ **for**_ _you, let alone play_ _ **with**_ _you. Because this is a thing between me and Rachel. Because this is_ _ **Rachel's**_ _and I'm not ready to let it be anyone else's. Because I've only ever played alone._ Those and a slew of other reasons ran through her mind _._

"Why not, Quinn?" Frannie pressed.

Quinn frowned and closed her eyes, shaking her head mildly. "Why are you doing this, Frannie?" she whispered in a broken voice. "You know I  _can't_."

Frannie sighed and nodded in resignation. She palmed over her thighs and then stood up, quietly heading towards the door. Quinn stared down at the black and white keys glowering at her. "I know you can, Quinn." Quinn tensed. She didn't look back. "I heard you play a couple nights ago. But I…I just want to hear my baby sister play for me, instead of sneaking up on you like a peeping tom."

There was a lengthy pause before she heard the door shut faintly. Quinn swallowed and groaned. She propped her elbows on the keys, depressing them and creating a slew of disparate noises. She rested her head in her hands, closed her eyes and licked her lips.

"Fuck," she whispered.

Today had kind of been like a roller-coaster. First, she'd kissed Rachel Berry. Then her parents had returned. And now, her sister had practically admitted to sneaking up on her. Her sister wanted her to play for her, and Quinn knew for sure she was not ready for that yet. Playing for Rachel alone had been nerve-wracking enough.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She tiredly fished it out and saw that Rachel had texted her.

_How are you doing? – R_

Quinn couldn't help but smile at Rachel's concern for her wellbeing. She quickly thumbed a reply.  _My parents are back – Q_

It didn't take long for Rachel to text back.  _Oh wow. Are you okay then? – R_

_I'm fine. They were…surprisingly pleasant. – Q_

_Probably jetlagged – R_

Quinn grinned.  _Probably – Q_

_Well, I'm off to bed. You should go to sleep early too. You have school tomorrow. – R_

_I am well aware of that – Q_

_I love you – R_

The familiar swell in her chest happened when she read those words. She worried her lip and debated whether to reply the same. Her thumbs hovered over the keypad on the screen. Then she decided to throw caution to the wind.

_I love you too – Q_

* * *

The first thing she saw when she walked into her English classroom was Miss Avery's shit-eating smirk. Quinn frowned as she sat down in her seat. Miss Avery only kept smirking. Before Quinn could do anything – not that she could with the classroom filled with students – the bell rang, and Miss Avery turned around to the board and started on her lesson for the day.

The second the last student filed out of the room, Quinn asked, "What's up with you?"

Miss Avery's smirk widened into a mischievous grin. "Rachel and Quinn sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," she started singing.

Quinn's eyes widened and she spluttered. "She told you?" she exclaimed.

Miss Avery tapped her chin with a finger and looked up at the ceiling with a contemplative look. "Well, not exactly. Rachel told my girlfriend and my girlfriend told me because there are no secrets between my girlfriend and I." Miss Avery then sidled up to the seat next to her and plopped down. "And I guess there aren't any secrets between you and I, right?"

"Does your girlfriend know that the girl her best friend is in love with is me?" Well, that was quite a mouthful.

"Yes," Miss Avery affirmed. "Because there are no secrets between my girlfriend and I."

Quinn squinted and sneered. "Yes, yes, I know. You and your girlfriend have a loving relationship. There is no need to flaunt it in front of poor ol' me."

Miss Avery chuckled. "Well, congratulations by the way. God knows how much Rachel needs to get laid."

Quinn's jaw dropped. "I…We…we're not…There is no 'getting laid' yet, mind you!" she stammered.

Miss Avery laughed and stood up. "You're cute. Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out. Now, get to class!"

" _Lucy dear, generations are different now. When you start going to school, you'll see things and you'll learn things and you'll do things. However, when in school, find a teacher: a teacher who can teach you and guide you and talk to you on issues excluded from the school syllabus. It'll do you a lot of good."_


	12. Chapter 12

Quinn decided that she would wait to tell Santana about her kiss with Rachel. How was she supposed to let Santana know when she could barely grasp the idea herself. Despite all the wisdom imparted on her by Rachel and Mercedes the night before, she had still yet to find her way around the whole event.

Which was why she found herself indulging Santana in her complaints and in Brittany's innocent silliness and Puck's lechery instead of telling them about  _her_. Halfway through Santana's complaint about her chemistry class, Quinn's mind drifted off to what she had seen that morning.

It was as though nothing changed.

Quinn awoke on time that morning, dressed, and went down to help Mercedes set the table for breakfast. Mercedes had gratefully nodded at her and let her steal a bite of the scrambled eggs she was making in the kitchen. And then Mercedes had given her meaningful look, indicating their talk last night had not slipped her mind.

Quinn rolled her eyes good-naturedly. When she'd set up the last of the table, her family began to pile in. Her sister and her father were mildly surprised when they saw Quinn in the dining room. Quinn rolled her eyes at them; she very nearly snapped that just because she was often tardy did not mean she was incapable of being on time.

She respectfully took her place at the dining table next to her grandfather, flanking her father's left. And then Mercedes began serving breakfast. As they ate, Russell asked questions about what they had been up to the last week while he and Judy had been absent.

As Quinn tried to evade his questions as much as possible, she also didn't fail to observe her parents' behavior.

Like she said, it was as if nothing had changed. But Quinn, being the observant little shit that she was, knew that something had changed. It wasn't just her parents' odd behavior. It was her own. Because last night, she had kissed Rachel Berry.

Quinn wondered when the hell she was going to stop being surprised at the thought of that.

Her eyes landed on her father first. He was eating slower than usual and the minor look of exhaustion on his face would have been easily missed by others, but not her; never her. As much as she loved to pride herself on not caring for her father, she could still see even the slightest bit of change in him.

And then she slowly turned to her mother. Judy would not stop sending Russell worried glances every other second. She watched the silent interaction between her parents where Judy would frown questioningly and then Russell would nod reassuringly.

Quinn still didn't think it was the right time to voice her thoughts, so she kept quiet. She decided that she would observe her parents more and try to find the right time to ask why the hell they had been acting so odd.

With that, she finished eating her breakfast. Her father, as usual, waited for her at the door while she grabbed her bag. As she got into her car and trailed behind him, she felt that even though she was initially taken aback when she saw her parents the night before, it felt good to be back in their usual routine. The familiarity was something she needed right now after all the unfamiliarity she had experienced since their departure.

"Quinn!" She snapped to reality to see her friends all staring at her. Finn had joined them, apparently. She hadn't noticed.

She blinked and cleared her throat. "Sorry," she mumbled. "What?"

Santana frowned. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Quinn stared at her, deliberately widening her eyes at her. "Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?"

The Latina's frown remained marring her forehead as she sarcastically said, "Well, I don't know. Obviously you're so fine that you couldn't hear each and every one of us calling you for the 10000th time."

Quinn had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry," she mumbled again. "I just had something on my mind."

"Care to share?"

The blonde shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Not yet, San," she whispered.

Santana nodded understandingly. "Okay," she said.

"Wanna hit the docks?" Puck mentioned. Quinn turned to him, thinking he was joking. But he had a serious look on his face.

She smiled gratefully and shook her head again. "Nah, it's okay. Seriously, guys, don't worry about me. I'm  _fine_ ," she insisted when she saw the unconvinced looks on their faces.

Quinn didn't miss the way Brittany pointedly narrowed her eyes at her as the bell rang, signaling for them to go back to class.

* * *

"Is this going to be our secret meeting place from now on?"

Quinn turned her head back as much as she could to watch Rachel walking towards her with a tender smile on her face. "It can be if you want it to be," she answered as she turned back to look back at the town beneath them.

They were at the cliff. Quinn had come home from school and saw Rachel's car parked in the driveway. She avoided passing by the music room and went upstairs. When it was time for her daily run, she texted Rachel before she left to meet her when she was done tutoring Frannie.

And now here they were.

"I'd be happy with the sewers if it meant I could see you there," Rachel said as she sat down next to her. Quinn watched as she pulled her knees back and wrapped her arms around them, curling into a ball.

Quinn smiled. "What a noble sacrifice."

Rachel laughed and turned to her, her lips curled into a smile. Quinn's eyes flitted down onto those red lips and subtly gulped. Rachel eliminated her doubts when she leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Quinn's breath shuddered the instance their lips touched and leaned in almost immediately to taste more.

The kiss was slow and patient, as if they had all the time in the world. In that moment, they felt like they had an eternity ahead of them. Quinn tried to abolish those unrealistic thoughts from her head but she couldn't as long as the woman in front of her was kissing her.

"I love you," Rachel breathed against her lips.

Quinn's eyes screwed shut and she took the opportunity to insert her tongue into Rachel's mouth. She smirked proudly when Rachel gasped. Quinn tilted her head to gain better access and inadvertently moved in closer. However, with the exception of their lips, their bodies did not touch.

Eventually, they parted. Quinn's eyes opened slowly to see Rachel's eyes still closed and her lips slightly open, as if she was surprised by what had just happened and couldn't process it. Funny how just last night it was Quinn in her position.

Quinn waited until Rachel had opened her eyes to reply, "I love you too."

* * *

"So how did it go last night?" Quinn started, and turned to Rachel in surprise at her question. Rachel smirked. "Frannie told me your parents came home last night."

Quinn's look of confusion disappeared and she turned back to staring at the town before them. "Well, my father…hugged me," Quinn said slowly, frowning, still finding it hard to believe. Rachel's smirk turned into an amused smile when she heard Quinn's tone. "Don't laugh at me," Quinn admonished. "He is  _not_  a hugger, trust me."

"Oh, I do," Rachel said immediately. "I just think it's cute that you're surprised he hugged you."

Quinn frowned. "Why?"

Rachel raised her brows at the blonde. "Quinn, he  _is_  your father."

Quinn groaned and hung her head back with her eyes closed. "I am not having this conversation again."

The brunette chuckled and shifted her body so she could face Quinn fully. "Why? Who else did you have this conversation with?"

"Well, for starters,  _you_." She looked at Rachel pointedly. Rachel gestured for her to go on. "Mercedes has been pestering me to make up with him. By the way, she knows about us." Rachel's eyes widened comically. Quinn laughed. "She did play a huge part in raising me. Don't worry, though. She won't rat us out."

Rachel hummed. "Well, I guess Mercedes isn't as oblivious as I thought she was." Quinn shrugged. "Who else?"

Quinn hesitated for a couple of seconds, wondering if she should tell Rachel about the other person. Then she decided to throw caution to the wind. "Miss Avery," she revealed. She saw the hint of recognition and panic in Rachel's eyes. "Miss Skye Avery," she elaborated.

Rachel froze. She licked her lips in a nervous gesture and blinked a couple of times. "Skye Avery's your teacher?" she asked. Quinn nodded, watching Rachel carefully. "Oh my god," Rachel whispered.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not happy with this?"

Rachel was dumbstruck for a moment. Her gaze managed to stay on Quinn, though she stammered for a moment before releasing a nervous chuckle. "I told her about you!" Rachel confessed. Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I told her girlfriend about you! But the two of them have no secrets! They tell each other everything, so I basically told Skye about you!"

Quinn fought to remain stone-faced. "Oh yes,  _Jemma_." Rachel gasped. Quinn's lips twitched. "I've met her. She's like the polar opposite of Miss Avery."

"Oh my god, you even met Jemma," Rachel mumbled pathetically as she carded her hand nervously through her hair.

"They're both very nice people," Quinn remarked with a smile.

"How are you and Skye even  _that_  close?" Rachel questioned.

Quinn winced. "Promise not to have a personal vendetta against her after I tell you?" Rachel narrowed her eyes. Quinn chuckled nervously. "Before I met you, I had a crush on her."

Rachel frowned. "Do you like have a thing for older people?"

The blonde chuckled and shrugged. "I guess, yeah," she said. "I mean, I really do find older people more attractive than people my own age, to be honest."

Rachel had a wary look on her face but Quinn, knowing Rachel, could easily see that she was faking it. "Should I be worried?" she queried.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. I mean, McKinley High is not short on handsome or pretty teachers. Also, who knows about the hundreds of attractive older residents in New Haven once I move there? You should definitely be worried."

"I guess I'll just have to install a tracking device on you to ease my worries," Rachel joked in return.

They burst out laughing. When they sobered, Quinn looked at Rachel fondly. "You know, Rachel, I don't think I'd be able to move on from you even if I wanted to," she confessed.

Rachel breathed deeply. She reached out to cup Quinn's face. "Me either."

How long they spent staring at each other, they didn't know. Once upon a time, Quinn had thought it wasn't possible for a person to love someone so much that they would be willing to ruin their lives to be with the other. Now that she was here with Rachel, the feelings she had felt like that once upon a time fairy tale. She felt like she could just leave her entire life in Lima and elope somewhere with Rachel and build a new life with her.

"So, tell me," Rachel shattered the glass of silence, "how exactly did you and Skye grow so close? A crush can't possibly be capable of forging such a strong friendship that you can tell her about me."

So Quinn told her about the day Miss Avery noticed her and her intellectual achievements. She told Rachel about how Miss Avery gifted her a book in appreciation of her efforts to boost class participation and make it more interesting. She told Rachel about how Miss Avery was the only teacher who seemed to understand her at an almost spiritual level, out of all the teachers at school.

"Wait, you actually told her about what happened in the music room the night we met?" Rachel asked, almost horrified.

"Well, not exactly. I just asked her, hypothetically, about what I should do if someone tried to drag my past back into my life."

"I most certainly did not try to drag your past back into your life, Quinn Fabray," Rachel defended.

"Well, excuse me for being completely terrified when someone I literally  _just_ met practically yelled at me to play the piano after five years of musical isolation!" Quinn stuck her tongue out. "Besides, I honestly didn't even know that much about you back then, despite the attraction I had towards you."

"I'm really glad you decided to play again," Rachel remarked. "I know I've said it a million times before but you are  _truly_  one of the most talented pianists I have ever met – in all ranges of age."

Quinn smiled but it drifted away as she recalled what happened last night after her talk with Mercedes. "Frannie asked me to play last night," she told Rachel. Rachel's smile disappeared as well and she stared at Quinn, waiting for her to continue. "She heard me play for you the other night. She asked me to sit next to her, and then she asked me to play for her. She thought I lied when I told her I wasn't ready."

"Were you?"

"No!" Quinn claimed. "I wasn't ready!" She swallowed a mouthful and she sighed. "Yes, I played. Yes, you've heard me play. But, you're the  _only_  person who has heard me play in five years! I wasn't ready to play for anyone else. I am  _not_ ready to play for anyone else."

"Why?"

Quinn turned to look at Rachel. She shrugged. "It's  _our_  thing." She gestured between the two of them with her finger. "You were the one who put me back on this path. You were the one who told me to  _play_. You were the first one to listen to me play. And I'm just not ready to change it."

"Quinn." Quinn's heart stuttered a bit. It was just the way Rachel had spoken her name. She often wondered what Santana was on about when she said the way Brittany spoke her name always flustered her. Now she understood. She had no words to describe it; only that the way Rachel spoke her name made her feel so special in her own rights.

"Rachel," Quinn replied.

Rachel gave a helpless smile and shook her head. "I'll always be here, Quinn," she declared. "You don't have to hold back just for me. You can play for me anytime. I'll always be here to listen. I wouldn't dare miss out on it." She reached out to cup Quinn's hand over her knee. "Your sister…your  _family_  deserves to hear you to play after going so long without."

Quinn just nodded.

"So, now that's solved. Will you play for your sister?" Rachel asked. Quinn considered it for awhile before she sighed. "Quinn, what is holding you back?"

It took a long moment. "Honestly?" She turned to Rachel with a perplexed look. "I don't even know myself," she whispered.

* * *

Brittany cornered her in the bathroom. She actually locked the door after checking that all the stalls were empty before she backed Quinn into the sink, her hands bracketing her in. Quinn was slightly terrified and mostly thankful that Brittany had locked the door because who knows what hell would rain down on them if Santana burst in.

Not that Quinn intended to do anything inappropriate with Brittany at the moment. Sure, she loved Brittany to death but not in  _that_  way. Ew.

"Um…Brittany?" If they asked her about it later, she would deny it. But she actually  _squeaked_.

Brittany's face was only inches away from her and not that she wasn't flattered, but she didn't think Brittany would be interested in her in a more than platonic way. That would be preposterous.

"Is everything okay?" she asked again.

"I should be the one asking you that question," Brittany replied quietly.

Now, she was really creeping Quinn out. "Um…everything's okay," Quinn replied slowly. She leaned her head back a fraction and reminded herself that Brittany was not a serial killer.

Brittany tilted her head a little. "Is it?"

Quinn blinked a couple times and she gulped. "Brittany, sorry but you're freaking me out." She put her hands on her friend's shoulders and pushed her away. Well, she  _tried_  to, only Brittany seemed to have the strength of a freaking dinosaur and she couldn't move her at all. "Brit, what is it?" she whined.

She watched Brittany observe her for the next god-only-knows-how-long before Brittany finally let her go. Quinn released a relieved breath as she pushed off the sink and stepped as far away from her friend as possible.

"Seriously, Brittany, what is up with you today?" she complained, her hand on her chest.

"You've been acting weird lately."

Quinn gave her a look. "Me? Weird? Did you even see yourself just now?"

"Did you kiss Rachel?"

Quinn froze and she stared at her friend, dumbfounded. Shit. She wasn't that obvious, was she? Wait, no, she wasn't. It was only that Brittany was slightly more perceptive than others. That was probably how she knew. No point denying it now.

"Yes," she admitted. "But you can't tell anyone. Not even Santana."

"Why not?"

"Brit, come on," she breathed. "I just…started this whole kissing thing with Rachel. We're not even sure what we are just yet. How am I supposed to tell Santana about it?"

"You told me."

Quinn released a helpless chuckle and leaned her head back against the wall. "You practically forced it out of me. I certainly did not volunteer that information on my own accord."

"What does this have to do with guitar?" Brittany asked, frowning.

Normally, Quinn would have smiled and patted Brittany's shoulder. Normally, Quinn would have been amused by Brittany's quirks.  _Normally._ However, now, she wasn't the least bit amused. "Brittany!" she snapped. "Just…pretend I didn't say anything to you. Pretend this never happened. God knows what Santana's gonna do to me if she knows."

"Were you even planning on telling us?" Brittany persisted, ignoring Quinn's previous words.

Quinn sighed and feebly rubbed her forehead. She could already feel the impending headache. "You guys were bound to find out one way or another. It's just a matter of time."

"Then why hide it from us?"

"I just told you!" Quinn snapped. "Look, you're making it into a bigger deal than it is. Rachel and I kissed. I fell in love with a woman who happens to be twelve freaking years older than me and I kissed her! Is that enough for you? Or do you want to hear all the intimate details? Huh?"

Quinn made a sound of frustration. She shouldered past her friend, unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

* * *

Honestly, she was disappointed when she didn't see Rachel's car in the driveway.

"Today's an off day," Frannie said when she asked. Her eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you know that?"

Quinn appeased her sister's curiosities by saying she had a bad day, which was true.

"Are you okay?" Frannie persisted.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

She then saved herself from Frannie's further questioning by escaping into the kitchen. Mercedes wasn't there and Quinn was glad for that. If Mercedes saw her in her state, she would go into yet another interrogation. So she poured herself a glass of milk and went upstairs to her room with it.

She drank a quarter from the glass and set it down on her desk, then started stripping as she headed towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of garments at her heels. As she stood under the shower head, she reflected on her confrontation with Brittany earlier today and winced.

As crazy as Brittany was acting today, it hadn't been the first time. Quinn shouldn't have snapped at her. She didn't know what had put her so on edge today.

She was fine when she came home for dinner last night. She observed more weirdness from her parents and made mental note of it. Then she chatted with Mercedes about random stuff for about fifteen minutes before Sam came to pick her up. She avoided the music room and went upstairs to her room. Everything was fine when she had gone to sleep, albeit a bit earlier than usual.

When she woke up she just felt so frustrated and on edge the second she opened her eyes. She couldn't figure out what was causing it. She had yet to figure it out, and it all just collected from a small pile into a bigger pile of frustrations. Brittany had only become a victim of it.

By the time she exited the shower, she had decided to make a point to apologize to Brittany first thing in the morning. The guilt was hard to bear, especially when Brittany was on the receiving end of it.

She changed into a loose shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. She downed the rest of the milk and went to turn on her laptop to get started on this week's assignments. For the next two hours or so, she managed to keep her mind distracted and focused on attempting to achieve satisfying grades.

There were still two hours until dinner when she was done with her homework. She locked her hands and stretched out on her chair, groaning as she did so. She stood up, fetched the empty glass and went downstairs to put it back in the kitchen. By habit, she passed by the music room and heard the distinct sound of the piano. She sighed and resisted going in, instead continuing on her original path to the kitchen.

Mercedes wasn't there. The door to the wine cellar was closed. Quinn frowned. Where else would she be if not in the kitchen? She washed the glass and put it back where it came from and set out to look for her housekeeper.

"Don't force your sister." Quinn stopped in her tracks and stared at the door leading to the music room. "She's been having a rough patch. It's not easy for her," Mercedes continued to say.

"I know, 'Cedes, I know," Frannie's voice drifted out of the room. "I don't even know what I was thinking that night, honestly."

"You miss hearing your sister play," Mercedes said with a tone of certainty. "Who wouldn't? I do too. She had never looked as beautiful as she did when she was playing."

Quinn felt an ache in her heart when she heard Mercedes' words.

"I know!" Frannie agreed.

"But she's still not ready to play for an audience." Quinn closed her eyes. Mercedes was wrong. She was ready to play an audience, only the audience was comprised solely of Rachel. "You can't blame her after what happened all those years ago."

"You know who I blame?"

"Your father."

There was a moment of silence which Quinn assumed Frannie was staring at Mercedes in shock.

Mercedes chuckled. "Honey, I know how you feel, okay? I blamed him too."

"Blamed?"

"It's not healthy to carry a grudge, Francine."

Frannie sighed. "He is not a good father."

"He may not be the best father," Mercedes said. "But he wasn't the worst either. I told Quinn the same thing. Your father may be the most infuriating man in the universe. He may be stubborn. He may be utterly oblivious to his children's desires. But he loves you. I am telling you, he  _loves_ you two to the core."

"It's a real shocker that Mom actually stayed with him all this time."

Mercedes chuckled. "I know."

Quinn was about to leave when she heard footsteps approaching the door. But then Frannie asked, "Do you think she didn't want to play because of him?"

"I think Quinn is afraid of a lot of things, mainly because of your father. But Quinn has got to overcome all those fears herself. No one, not even Russell, can help her get through them."

* * *

She found Brittany at her locker the next morning. She took a deep, nervous breath to prepare herself. She cleared her throat when she was beside Brittany to get her attention.

Brittany turned to Quinn with a curious look. It was as if everything that happened yesterday was forgotten. "Quinn, is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispered, an apologetic look on her face.

"For what?"

"You know, what happened in the bathroom," Quinn elaborated.

Brittany narrowed her eyes, still blank. "What happened in the bathroom?" she asked.

Quinn blinked. Did she really forget? "Brittany, you cornered me in the bathroom and kind of interrogated me."

"What does 'interrogated' mean?"

Quinn was about to go ahead to explain before she waved her hand between them. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I'm sorry."

"I don't think I understand what you're talking about." For the love of god, Brittany still had a confused look on her face.

Quinn frowned and stared at her friend for a second before she remembered. "Britt, you don't have to pretend that whatever happened yesterday never happened." Brittany's face changed as she dropped her act of ignorance over yesterday's events. Quinn couldn't help but think that the girl deserved a freaking Oscar. "I'm sorry," she reiterated.

Brittany smiled sympathetically and she reached out to pat Quinn on the shoulder. "It's okay, Quinn. I don't blame you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Quinn grinned and she leaned forward to wrap her arms around Brittany. "Thank you so much. I love you," she declared.

"Are you trying to steal my girlfriend from me?"

Quinn smirked and drew back from Brittany but kept her arm slunk around Brittany's shoulder. "Depends. Are you willing to share?"

Safe to say by the way Santana chased her down the hallway, Santana Lopez was unamused.

" _Lucy my precious, keep in mind that your friends are important. Keep an eye out for the truest among them all. And never lose them. Never."_


	13. Chapter 13

The pounding thud of running feet were drowned out by panting breaths filling the air as two girls flew down the pathway between the trees and under the sun. Once in a while, there would be grunts from one and then laughter from the other, persisting until the end of the line as the two girls burst through into the sunlit clearing.

Quinn lay back against one of the wooden tables and closed her eyes, her mouth opened wide and taking deep, regulating breaths. She heard Santana sit down on the bench at her table with a grunt and chuckled when Santana put her head on Quinn's stomach. They were both quiet for the next ten minutes as they basked under the sun and felt the cold air against their bare skin.

Quinn stretched an arm down to stroke Santana's head. She must have been really tired if she was actually allowing Quinn to stroke her hair like this. She hummed and smiled slightly as she continued to pet Santana's head.

This was one of those moments where she knew she would never ever want to lose this friendship. To an outsider they might seem like lovers, but anyone who knew them would know that their relationship would never go beyond platonic.

"This is weird," Santana finally voiced out loud. And yet, she made no move to draw herself away from Quinn. "Seriously, this is really weird," Santana asserted when Quinn snickered.

Quinn grinned, her eyes remained closed. "It is not," she replied. "Besides, it's comfortable." Santana hummed in agreement. "You know, I vaguely remember I asked Britt to run with us."

She could feel Santana's jaw shifting against her stomach as she smiled. "I asked her to let us run alone," Santana admitted.

Quinn mock-frowned and pushed herself to a sitting position on the table, Santana groaning as she was forced to sit upright on the bench as well. "Do you have a crush on me, San?" she teased.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say." Quinn laughed. Santana grinned helplessly. "I wanted to talk to you about something, so I asked her to give us some alone time. Besides, she said that she wouldn't mind if you and I screwed."

Quinn choked on the water she'd been drinking from her water bottle. She hastily moved it away from her mouth and covered her mouth with her hand.

"If you spit that out, I swear to god…" Santana drifted off. Quinn waved her other hand in the air. "Swallow.  _Swallow_."

Quinn managed to do as she said. She gasped a little before she stage whispered, " _What_?"

Santana wiggled her brows playfully. "Wanna have a go at it now that my girlfriend's given permission?"

Quinn pushed Santana on the shoulder. "You wish."

"What?" Santana said as if it wasn't such a bad idea. "Come on, you know you want to hit this up." Santana leaned back and ran her hand up and down inches away from her body. "You're not even taken." Quinn blushed and didn't meet Santana's eyes. Santana narrowed her eyes. She scrutinized her best friend and then her jaw dropped slightly. "Wait, are you saying…?"

"I didn't say anything," Quinn said a little too quickly.

Santana inhaled exaggeratedly and put her hand to her chest. Quinn was wondering if she should tell her that her heart was on the other side when Santana shoved her, nearly making her fall off the table.

"Hey!" Quinn protested as she adjusted herself upright.

"When?" Santana demanded.

Quinn grinned guiltily and gave a nervous laugh. "Three days ago?" she said uncertainly.

It took around thirty seconds of stunned silence before she even dared to look at her best friend. Santana was sporting a scandalized look on her face, and Quinn was pretty sure there was a hint of anger there too.

"I –"

" _Three days ago_?" Santana cut her off soundly. Quinn winced and looked away. "Oh, don't you dare look away from me, young lady!" With that, Santana curled her fingers around Quinn's chin and forcefully spun her head around to face her.

"Technically, I'm older than you." Quinn shut up when she saw the venomous look Santana was sending her way. "Sorry," she whispered.

"I  _knew_  there was something going on with you!" Santana proclaimed, smugness having slipped into her enraged features. "I  _knew_ it!"

"Really?"

Santana twitched her nose. "I mean, I did know something was going on with you. Plus, Britt hinted about it a couple times to me. I just didn't want to like, crowbar it out of you or anything. I wanted you to tell me directly."

"She knows, by the way."

"Who?"

Quinn smiled. "Our other best friend slash your girlfriend."

"Okay, how the hell does  _she_  know and I don't?"

Quinn shrugged and stared back at her friend helplessly. "Oh, you know Brittany. She has a way of seeing things that normal people don't. She cornered me in the bathroom yesterday at school. I almost thought she was coming on to me, but instead she pretty much asked me if Rachel and I kissed."

"She did  _what_?" Santana almost shrieked.

Quinn held her hands up in a surrender gesture. "Don't worry. Nothing happened. It was all PG. Besides, I wouldn't."

"Damn right you wouldn't dare," Santana snapped. Not even two seconds later, she smiled proudly. "Was that why I heard you apologizing to her this morning?"

"You heard that?" Quinn asked in surprise. Santana gave her a did-you-really-have-to-ask look. "Of course you did. Why am I even surprised?"

Quinn sat there, swinging her legs in the air. She was waiting for Santana to ask more questions that never came. Quinn almost wanted to ask why she wasn't asking her anything when Santana finally queried, "So how was it?"

Quinn had to glanced away to hide her smile. Of all questions, this one was the one she expected the most. "You ever heard the song  _Fire_?"

Santana raised her brows. "Really? Of all songs, you're gonna refer your kiss to  _that_." Quinn smiled and nodded. "Oh my god, you're so lame."

"Um, excuse me! I seem to recall a certain someone barging into my home without even so much as a 'How do you do' before she dragged me upstairs to tell me all the sordid details about her and her girlfriend's first kiss," Quinn taunted with a meaningful look at her best friend.

"Well, at least I didn't refer my kiss to a  _song_ ," Santana protested.

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. " _It was like fireworks exploded everywhere. I felt like I was floating into a cloud of marshmallows. She –"_  Before she could continue, Santana put her hand over Quinn's mouth and glared daggers at her. Quinn pulled it away. "Do you have any idea how traumatized I was when I heard  _those_ words coming out of your mouth?"

"Okay, fine. Tell me all the sordid details of  _your_  kiss," Santana offered. "Who kissed who first?" Quinn bit her lip with a grin and then pointed to herself with her thumb. Santana looked slightly taken aback. "You…you kissed her first?" Quinn confirmed with a nod. Santana's eyes widened a fraction and her lips shifted as she processed it. "Are you sure?"

"For god's sake, San!" Quinn imploded. "I kissed Rachel first. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that the only time you've ever kissed someone was what's-his-name when you were like twelve or something! And you didn't even enjoy it. And now you're telling me that you, with practically no experience with  _kissing_  at all, made the first move."

"There's a saying that goes: To have a truly, genuinely incredible kiss, you must find the right partner."

"You just made that up."

"Yes, I did," Quinn said with a certain nod.

Santana rolled her eyes. She offered Quinn her hand and smiled cheekily. "Congratulations, Quinn Fabray. You're no longer Cowardly Lion."

Quinn, doing her part, took her hand and shook it. "Thank you. It feels liberating to have courage."

"And then what happened? Where did you kiss, by the way? Can't have been your house, because god knows what would happen if your sister or your grandfather found out."

Quinn grinned and wagged a finger in Santana's face. "My house, it certainly did happen at. I was in the patio staring at the backyard and she came looking for me. We talked...and then I kissed her."

"Holy crap, did anyone see?"

"Mercedes saw it, but she's okay with it." Quinn laughed when Santana breathed in relief. "And then, as Mercedes would so wisely put it, we ran out of the house like April and Jackson did in  _Grey's Anatomy_. Rachel drove us here. Well, not exactly here. We parked at the beginning of the trail and we just sat in the car."

"What? No sex?" Quinn frowned at Santana. "Me and Britt did it the first time we kissed."

"Rachel and I aren't you and Brittany, excuse us. She fell asleep in the car eventually and I just…creepily stared at her."

"So what now? You guys girlfriends? Or just…kissing buddies?"

Quinn grimaced. "Don't make it sound so crass!" she chastised. "We haven't actually put a label to this thing between us yet. We did go out on a kind-of date yesterday though."

Santana nodded sagely and stared into the air, as if taking in everything Quinn had just told her. "You're happy, right?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Quinn grasped Santana's hand from its resting place on her thigh and squeezed it. "I am," she whispered with a delightful grin. "Can you believe it? I'm  _happy._ "

Santana softened and patted Quinn's hand with her other hand. "I can, actually."

* * *

 

Quinn paused just shy of a few steps away from Frannie's bedroom door. She inhaled and exhaled, and repeated it a few more times. She tipped the edges of her lips so she would appear to be smiling and canceled the small distance between herself and the door.

She rapped her knuckles against the wood and waited. Her fake smile inevitably turned into a real one when she heard Frannie groaning, her voice heavy with sleep. There was a string of mild curses before feet hit the floor and the door opened, revealing her sister in lounge wear and bedhead.

"Good morning," she teased, even though it was five in the evening

Frannie groaned again and went back inside, leaving the door open for her. Quinn sat down beside her sister, who was lying face down, on the bed.

"How much do you really sleep?" Quinn asked. Another groan was the reply. "Wanna get coffee?"

There was a pause and then Frannie lifted her head to give Quinn her best glare, which wasn't much. "No," she said resolutely. "Now go away and let me get back to sleep."

"No piano lesson today?" Quinn asked. She was not asking for selfish reasons, definitely not. Except she kind of was.

Frannie's shoulders slumped against the bed and Quinn grinned victoriously. She watched as her sister pushed herself up with her elbows and turned her body around to face upright. "She came this morning."

Quinn blinked. "Did your schedule change or something?"

Frannie shook her head and tiredly rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. "No, she told me she had something to settle, so she asked to push it up a bit today. And given the fact that I had nothing to do, I agreed."

"The showcase is in two weeks, right?" Frannie nodded. Quinn hummed. "Come on! Let's go out!" She hopped onto her feet and pulled Frannie up.

Frannie moaned pitifully. She looked pitiful. "Whatever happened to world peace?" Frannie complained aloud.

Quinn laughed but pulled her to her feet anyway. She grabbed Frannie's jacket from her closet and went behind her to put it on for her. Frannie sighed when Quinn put her arm around her waist but walked along with her anyway.

"What about dinner?"

"It can wait," Quinn answered without hesitation and dragged Frannie out of the house. "Get in." She opened the passenger door for her and practically pushed Frannie into her car before going around to the other side and getting behind the wheel.

As she started the car, Frannie asked, "What's with you?"

Quinn's foot hung in midair, almost pressing the pedal. She looked to her sister and sobered up. "I have something to tell you."

As if she'd said the magic words, all hints of sleepiness vanished from Frannie's eyes, replaced with eagerness and some fear. "Is something wrong?"

Quinn reversed the car carefully onto the road. "Depends," she said.

She reached out to turn on the radio; the entire car ride to the Lima Bean listening to Lady Gaga. They parked in front of the coffee shop and got out. Quinn found themselves a table in a corner where they wouldn't be interrupted by anyone or anything, while Frannie went to get their orders.

Frannie sat in front of her and handed her the hot chocolate she'd ordered. "So what is it?"

Quinn drank a little from her cup and put it down. "Promise me you won't freak out."

"You're freaking me out by asking me to promise you I won't freak out," Frannie said, frowning.

Quinn bit her lip as she pondered her decision. She had been so positive when she made it, yet now she could feel that resolve fading. She decided to push through the uneasy feeling. "I'm seeing someone," she blurted and closed her eyes right after. "I mean, I'm kinda seeing someone."

"How can you kinda see someone?" Frannie prodded.

"We haven't put any label on it."

Frannie kept her eyes on Quinn for a total of ten minutes, waiting for Quinn to reveal the name of her secret beau. But Quinn didn't; she saw something in Frannie's eyes that told her that Frannie already had a pretty good idea. She gulped. She was sitting in a position where she could easily bolt out if things got too tense.

"Well, Rachel sure knows how to pick 'em."

Quinn nodded until the words fully processed in her head. She froze. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers and she looked at her sister as if she had grown another head. Her posture tensed and her hands clutched tightly around her cup.

What?

"What?" she nearly yelped. Frannie's brow twitched and she hummed matter-of-factly. "Frannie, what the hell?"

"Come on, Quinn, do you honestly think I wouldn't notice? You're my sister, for god's sake," Frannie proclaimed and motioned her hand in the air frivolously .

Quinn's jaw dropped in slow motion. "What?" she replied intelligently. Frannie rolled her eyes. And then she did the opposite of what Quinn thought she'd do. She fucking  _smiled_. "Why are you smiling? You should not be smiling. This is the worst thing I could ever tell you. I'm 'kind of' seeing a woman  _twice my age_.  _Why are you smiling_?"

"I am smiling," Frannie tilted her head and leaned forward to capture Quinn's hand on the table, "because you deserve it."

Quinn's brows twitched and her lips pursed. "I do?" she said.

Frannie laughed and squeezed Quinn's hand, which freaked her out more than comforted her. "After all the shit you've been through, you deserve it. Rachel's a good person. And she cares a lot about you, I can see it."

"So you really don't mind?" Quinn asked for reassurance.

Frannie tilted her head and pressed her lips. "Well, I do." Quinn's face darkened. "You're my sister. I'll always mind when you're seeing someone. I'll always feel the compulsion to run a background check and give them – in this case, Rachel –  _the talk_."

Quinn massaged her temples and released a destitute laugh. " _All jokes aside_ ," she began pointedly, "you really don't mind?"

Frannie shook her head with a pleasant smile. "No, I really don't mind."

Quinn allowed herself a few moments to gather her thoughts and reroute her brain before it went into overdrive. "Wow," was all she could manage. She blinked a few times and then asked, "When did you know?"

"Well, I've always kind of known that you have a thing for older people." Quinn went slack-jawed. Frannie gave a naughty wink. "When Rachel came around, I notice that you changed a bit. I mean, you dared to give your opinion about Dad's views on my piano playing when you normally just kept your mouth shut. And I saw you lingering around the music room quite a few times."

"That doesn't say anything."

Frannie acquiesced. "Yes, at first I thought that you saw Rachel as an influential figure who just suddenly gained interest in you. And I thought why not, because you obviously needed the prodding." Frannie's brows raised and lowered in a second. " _And then_  you went and had some sort of a breakdown. When I came into the music room, she had your head on her  _lap_. Normal people don't allow their friends to put their heads on their laps; let alone their students. I didn't think much on it because I was too worried about you. But then that night when I rewound everything in my head, it finally made sense." Frannie's lips widened into a triumphant grin. "You two were attracted to each other."

Quinn shook her head with a smile. "You ever thought of pursuing a career in law enforcement?" she joked.

"It would be the perfect profession, wouldn't it?" Frannie played along.

Quinn threw her head back and laughed. She sobered soon after. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I enjoy watching you two flirt around with each other," Frannie enlightened. "You two are cute." Frannie then seemed to be deep in thought. "There is one thing though. You two will grow old together, but she's gonna die a lot earlier than you will and you'll be left a widow."

Quinn mockingly smiled. "Wow, Frannie, you sure do know how to make me happy with tremendous news."

Frannie smiled back in the same fashion. "Aren't I the best sister in the world?"

"And who says we're gonna get married? There's still a long road ahead of us."

Frannie snorted. "You're in love with her, Quinn. Don't even try to deny it. I saw you two swapping spit on the patio the other day and she told you she loves you and you told her you love her back." Quinn wasn't even surprised anymore. Now she was mortified. "It's a free country."

"Just because I'm…in love with her doesn't mean we're gonna get married," Quinn stuttered. "It doesn't work that easily."

"It does if you want it to."

Quinn sighed and smiled grimly. "Yes, because our parents and our grandfather would be so accepting of it. They would totally be okay with their 17 year old daughter falling in love with their other daughter's piano tutor, who just happens to be 12 years older than the 17 year old daughter."

"Okay, I admit, Dad won't be nice about it in the beginning." Quinn scoffed with a shake of her head. "But I think the Dad we have  _now_  will at least try to see it your way. And Mom just wants you to be happy."

Quinn eyed her sister. "Even you noticed the change in our father, huh?" she commented softly.

"I've been wanting to ask Mom and Dad about it since they came home but I keep backing down whenever I get the chance."

"Do you think he's sick?"

Silence fell over them like a blanket as they contemplated their similar concerns. "I think there's something really wrong with him," Frannie finally offered.

* * *

 

"Quinn."

She looked up from her book and saw her father standing at her door. "Dad," she breathed and quickly closed the book. He had an unreadable look on his face and his hands were stuffed in his pants pockets. "Is something wrong?"

 _Something's really wrong,_ she thought.

He shook his head with a pleasant smile. Holy shit, her father was smiling  _pleasantly_. But she knew him, despite how much she didn't know about him. This she knew; he was lying.

"Are you sure?" she prodded with marginally narrowed eyes. He nodded and smiled again. "So, what brings you here? To my room?" she added.

His lips parted but no words came out, as if words were lost to him. And then he closed them again and shook his head. She could barely hear a huff coming from him. "You know what, never mind. Goodnight," he bade. He turned around to leave.

"Dad," she hastened, almost shouted. He turned back around. She stared at him for a long minute, taking in his haggard and yet still handsome features. People always said she had his eyes and her mother's bone structure. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"  _Even though I can't_.

His face was still inscrutable, but she might have caught a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. He nodded curtly and walked out.

* * *

 

Her mother was in the living room, reading the newspaper when Quinn descended the stairs. She greeted her good morning and went into the kitchen to reheat the breakfast that Mercedes had left in the oven for her. Mercedes was nowhere to be found, but she saw the door to the wine cellar wide open.

She was halfway done eating when Judy came into the room and promptly sat next to her at the empty table, her eyes unwavering as she watched Quinn eat. Quinn swallowed the egg in her mouth forcefully and sat up straight to look at her mother.

"Something wrong?" she inquired.

Judy hummed and then shook her head. But her mother was not as good an actress as her husband was, so the concern was glaring on her face.

"You're lying," Quinn blatantly said.

Judy was clearly taken aback by Quinn's accusation. "How's your day been?" she asked.

Quinn inwardly scoffed. She knew a deflection attempt when she saw one. "It's just started," she indulged. "Why the sudden interest?"

"What? I can't ask about my daughter's day."

Quinn squinted. "Shouldn't you be lurking outside the music room to see how Frannie is doing with her practicing?" she joshed with a smirked.

Judy chuckled wholeheartedly and shook her head. "You told us that she's doing fine; improving, even. We trust your judgment." This time, Quinn couldn't keep the surprise off her face. Judy gave her a disapproving look. "Don't look at me like that."

"I'm sorry." Quinn said in slow surprise. "You just said you trust me in my opinion of Frannie's piano playing, which is an occasion that has never happened in the last five years."

Judy sighed. Her hands went to take the fork Quinn had abandoned and proceeded to feed Quinn a mouthful of baked beans, which Quinn gladly accepted. "Your father and I were supposed to return three days before the day we did," Judy started. Quinn hummed, probing her to continue. "But I decided that we deserved a few days to ourselves."

Quinn smirked. "Uh huh," she implored.

Judy stared at her blankly for a moment before she went from absent to appalled. "Quinn!" she admonished with a gasp.

Quinn chortled as she lifted the glass of water on the table. "I'm seventeen, Mom." Then she sipped.

"A parent will never not be surprised when their children speak of such things," Judy responded, looking scandalized.

Quinn shrugged. "You gotta deal with it." Judy scoffed and propped her forehead in her hand. "You haven't finished your story," she reminded.

Judy lifted her head. "While we took some time for ourselves, we talked. Like,  _really talked_. Your father and I hadn't have much chance to talk these days. We came to a few realizations of our own. And we trust you. We choose to trust you. After all, you are the acclaimed 'reincarnation of Myra Hess'."

"That was one article!" Quinn protested. Her face flushed at the mention of that article. How could they compare her to  _Myra Hess_  for god's sake?

Judy smiled. "You're his favorite daughter."

Quinn tilted her head and raised a brow. "Don't be surprised that I highly doubt that."

"Are you going to hate him your entire life for his…mistakes?" Judy asked.

Frustration filled her heart as she went over Judy's question. "I don't hate him," she answered softly. She ran her hand over her face and groaned. "I don't hate him."

"Then what are you?" Judy asked again.

Quinn scowled. What was she? Her mother had raised a fantastic question. "It's been five years, Mom; five years where there has been nothing but hostility and only a sliver of mild friendliness between Dad and I.  _He_ made our relationship this way. He's made it so…" Quinn's face scrunched up as she looked for the right word. She gave up when she couldn't. "I just don't know how to communicate with him anymore," she sighed.

"Are you angry with me too?" her mother asked.

What was with the questions? Why did Judy choose today of all days to attack her with these kind of questions?

As if Judy could read her thoughts. "I just…I just want to know, Quinn. And I hope you'll be honest with me."

Quinn closed her eyes and smiled sardonically. "The day's only just begun," she grumbled. "I am," she then answered, her eyes remained closed. "I'm angry at you because over the past five years, Dad has been throwing sugar coated taunts at me and you didn't even try to stop him. You didn't even try to defend me!"

"Quinnie –"

"No!" Quinn disputed. "There's no excuse for that!" She opened her eyes abruptly and sat straight as she glowered at her mother. "Your best attempt at standing up for me is by calling his name as if that changes anything! But it doesn't."

Judy's eyes were moist. Guilt rose up in Quinn's chest because she was the one who caused it. But she was right. Damn it, she was  _right_.

"At least my relationship with you is not as damaged as my relationship with Dad," Quinn tried. Judy smiled at that and nodded appreciatively.

"I'm sorry," Judy voiced.

Quinn throat clogged and she exhaled austerely. She sniffled and cleared her throat. "I forgive you."

Judy smiled gratefully. "I wasn't lying, you know," she said as she wiped her eyes. Quinn looked at her curiously. "You  _are_  his favorite daughter."

Quinn's lips turned into a frown and she shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"It's because he loves you that he's been so hard on you. He wanted – wants – what's best for you and he always had the notion that you would thrive in a career as a musician." Judy shook her head. "I'm not saying your father has been the most paternal person, believe me, I know. But he's trying."

"By insulting me every chance he gets?"

"By pushing you," Judy corrected. "In a wrong way, I admit."

"You could have told him that."

"Again, I am sorry, Quinn, that I made you feel that way," Judy groveled. "He's been trying harder."

Quinn smiled sardonically and scoffed. "He's confusing me, is what he's doing," she muttered. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm not used to it. Honestly, I'm pretty freaked out by his latest behavior. It's like he's been possessed by the spirit of a man who was a nice father when he was alive."

"He's trying. And you should let him."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Quinn said sarcastically.

"He loves you," Judy persisted.

Quinn sighed and looked up at her mother. "I love him too," she whispered.

* * *

 

Quinn heard her before she saw her. The wooden panels creaked beneath Rachel's feet as she moved to sit next to Quinn on the patio steps. She couldn't resist from smiling when Rachel pecked her on the cheek.

"The showcase is near," Quinn announced.

"Yes, it is. And your sister is more than ready." Quinn waited. "Speaking of which,"  _there it is_ , Quinn thought smugly, "you told her about us." The blonde nodded, not once looking at Rachel. "Not that I mind, because I don't, but why?"

"I'm following my grandmother's advice," Quinn simply said.

"Which would be…?" Rachel prompted.

Quinn smirked and only then did she turn to take in Rachel's glorifying existence next to her. "That's for me to know," she said.

Rachel licked her lips. She chuckled under her breath and shook her head feebly. "God, what am I going to do with you?"

"What? Why?"

"You're driving me nuts," Rachel said as she grinned in an adoring way. "Every second I spend away from you is like torture to me." Quinn blushed. "I love you," Rachel whispered.

Quinn's smiled turned into a full-blown grin. "I love you."

" _Quinn my sweet, your middle name means 'to be wise'. Live up to your name, Quinn. Be wise. Think carefully and if you think it is deserving, do it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all grammatical errors are mine.


	14. Chapter 14

Quinn sneaked into the music room late that night. Her parents had retired early to bed, and Quinn spent an hour playing Scrabble with Grandpa Fred and Frannie, in which she beat them like a champ. Grandpa Fred complained that she was learning too much at school and she needed to stay home more so he could feel smart.

She'd giggled and teased, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He shook his head and smiled at her adoringly before announcing that he was going to bed as well.

Mercedes was still cleaning up the kitchen while waiting for her husband to come pick her up when Frannie walked in, pulling Quinn behind her. She stared at the two sisters warily as they settled on the stools at the island; Quinn looking clueless while Frannie had her pleading eyes on their housekeeper.

"No leftovers today," Mercedes declared when she realized what Frannie wanted.

Frannie pouted for a moment before a grin took over her face. "I'm sure you've got something stored up."

Quinn almost believed Mercedes when the woman shook her head no, if not for the fact that Mercedes almost always left something to snack on. She loved them like that.

In the end, Mercedes relented and came up with a tray of meatloaf. Frannie squealed in excitement as she picked up a piece. When Mercedes pushed the tray towards Quinn, she shook her head.

"I'm watching my figure," she explained.

Frannie scoffed next to her. "You don't need to watch your figure, Quinn. Rachel's not interested in you for your body." The nonchalance Frannie had spoken with took both Quinn and Mercedes by surprise.

Mercedes' eyes widened at Quinn in askance. Quinn shook her head in annoyance and motioned her hand in the air. "By all means, dear sister, speak louder and inform our parents and grandfather of my budding relationship with a woman 12 years my senior."

Frannie didn't even look apologetic. "They're sleeping. They can't hear you from up there. And Mercedes knows anyway so who cares?" Frannie said.

"How do you even know  _I_ know?" Mercedes asked in delirium.

Frannie smirked and she wouldn't stop eating. "Quinn tells you everything. Plus, it didn't take a genius to figure it out, considering you always give her these  _looks_  when Rachel's around."

Quinn narrowed her eyes as her gaze traveled to Mercedes. "Thanks for being subtle," she said sardonically.

"Sorry," Mercedes apologized with a wince. "Well, I don't think anybody who knows the actual situation will be able to figure out my…looks, if that's any comfort." Quinn shook her head in disagreement. "Speaking of, how did your sister know?" Frannie smiled in pride and retold Mercedes about her observation and her analysis. Mercedes whistled. "If playing piano doesn't work out for you, you can consider being a cop."

Frannie shrugged. "I'm still figuring it out."

"The showcase is in two weeks. If you want to have a say in your future at all, you need to start deciding now," Quinn said.

Frannie frowned slightly. "Dad is not going to monopolize my life after the showcase," Frannie concluded after a moment, but Quinn could hear the doubt in her voice. Frannie saw the look Quinn was giving her and insisted, "He's not."

"You better hope he won't," Quinn said. "He came into my room two nights ago." They looked towards her. "He was acting really weird. It was like he had something to tell me but he decided against it at the last minute."

"Do you have any idea what he was trying to tell you?" Frannie asked.

Quinn shook her head. "Absolutely not. But I think it has something to do with…whatever's going on with him at the moment."

"I have a theory," Mercedes voiced.

"Pray tell."

Mercedes looked a little regretful but went ahead anyway. "I think your father is sick," she enunciated slowly and carefully, watching the two sisters. Frannie looked perplexed while Quinn just looked blanked out. "He's been eating less and your mother has been subtly changing his diet with me. And I can see he's exhausted all the time, even early in the morning when he just woke up."

Quinn took a few minutes to think on it and then she snorted quietly. "Somehow, I think you're right," she whispered as she stared down at her clasped hands. "And I'm not surprised that he's keeping it from us and that Mom's in on it."

"Quinn," Frannie pronounced.

"Let's face it, Frannie," Quinn said, sounding as if she'd given up. "Dad has hidden a number of things from us. From  _me_ ," she corrected, recalling her grandmother's incident. "It's no surprise that he would be hiding this from us too."

"We're not even sure if he's really sick; if Mercedes is right," Frannie argued.

Quinn clenched her jaw. She was glaring at the meatloaf as if the meatloaf was the reason her father was keeping things from them. "What if she's right? What then?"

"You give him a spanking," Mercedes answered with a playful smile.

Quinn chuckled. Frannie nodded in earnest agreement. "Yes, we do."

Their discussion was cut short when Sam knocked on the backdoor. Quinn and Frannie, as usual, teased them about their never-ending fluffiness and begged them to cut it out. Mercedes just rolled her eyes and bade goodnight. Frannie then claimed she was tired and went to bed. Quinn could see that her older sister was disturbed by the topic of their discussion and wanted some time to think on it.

She hadn't felt like going to bed, which she supposed was how she found herself sitting in front of the piano but not touching it. She vaguely heard the faint sounds of a tune in her head. She smiled to herself as she recalled the notes to the music.

She lifted the lid gently, as if it was a newly-born baby and the only way to handle it was with love. And dear lord, did she love it. She placed her long fingers on the keys and closed her eyes. As the first keys were pressed, she found herself surging forward. She forgot about everything else in the world. Her relationship with Rachel, her parents, school,  _everything_ ; they were so easily forgotten. Rachel was right. Playing the piano was in her  _blood._

Ever since she'd started to play again, the piano had been humming to her more than ever. It wasn't as though she hadn't felt its call during the five years she had isolated herself from it, but since she started playing again, it had become louder and more tempting. Quinn had missed feeling so magnetized to the piano.

She only had Rachel Berry to thank for that.

* * *

Her morning was started with a text from Rachel. She was awoken by the chime of her phone, and a smile crept onto her face as she clicked open the text.

_Are you free after school today?_

Elated curiosity filled her mind as she typed back her response.  _I have baseball practice 'til 3, and then I'm free_.

She couldn't miss baseball practice. She might not love it as much as she loved piano and English, but she liked it. They had playoffs in just a week and she wanted to win this game before graduation.

_That works perfectly. Keep the rest of your day free._

Quinn narrowed her eyes with a coy smile.  _Are you ordering me now?_

She could practically hear Rachel chuckling all the over wherever her house was. Come to think of it, she had absolutely no idea where Rachel lived at.

Her phone chimed.  _PLEASE keep the rest of your day free._

_That's more like it._

Quinn replaced her phone on the bedside table and slipped out of bed. Rare as it had ever been, she actually had more than enough time to shower and get dressed before heading to school.

Fifteen minutes later, she came out of her bathroom, freshly showered, stark naked and more awake than ever, only to see that Rachel had replied to her text. She sat down on the bed, not even bothering to dress first.

 _You're adorable_.

Quinn blinked. She had no idea how to respond to that.

Her phone buzzed again.  _Where do you want me to pick you up?_

It was as if blinking was the only thing she could currently do. A few seconds later, after she regained her composure, she popped her lips nervously and cleared her throat.

 _Can't we meet wherever you want me to be?_ she replied. She almost wanted to ask Rachel to pick her up at school but that wouldn't be possible. Not with all the students milling about and possibly being seen by Miss Avery. She was positive Miss Avery would tease them about it.

 _Nuh-uh. I want it to be a surprise._ Rachel's response was almost instantaneous _. Come to think of it, maybe tell your folks you might stay over at a friend's place tonight._

This time, she choked on air and she almost dropped her phone on the floor. "What the hell," she spoke as a statement instead of a question. She replied as such.

 _Please. You'll love it. I promise_.

Quinn considered her options in her head. She almost wanted to refuse, but she was curious. And this was Rachel. She knew Rachel wouldn't try to harm her. She shook her head with a helpless smile.

_Lima Bean. I'll tell them I'm probably staying over at Santana's._

_Perfect_. Rachel ended the text with a smiley face and a winky face.

Quinn went into her closet to pick out something to wear. Considering she would be spending her day – maybe even night – after school with Rachel, she stashed a better outfit into her backpack to change into after baseball practice. Then she grabbed her phone and basically skipped down the staircase and towards the kitchen.

Her sister was sitting there, reading the newspaper. Her grandfather could be seen lingering in the kitchen, probably stealing food from Mercedes. Her parents weren't here yet.

"Well, look who's early," Frannie called out as soon as Quinn sat down opposite her.

Quinn stuck out her tongue. "I have something to tell you."

Frannie lifted her eyes from the newspaper and surveyed Quinn thoroughly, taking in her bright eyes and her excited body language. She smirked. "Does this have something to do with RB?"

Instantly picking up the initials, Quinn nodded with a shy smile.

Frannie folded the newspaper prudently. Quinn laughed when she saw her sister's face turn serious and stern, as if she was a mother.

"Rachel may be taking me out on a date later. And I might be spending the night with her."

" _Spending the night_?" Frannie stage whispered, her expression scandalous.

Quinn hurried to shush her with a finger to her lips. "Quiet down!" Quinn whispered in return as she glared at her sister.

"Don't you think this is a little too fast?" Frannie asked.

"We've been dancing this dance for months," Quinn said meekly. "Don't worry. I'm not ready for anything further than under the shirt, over the bra."

"Under the shirt, over the what now?"

Quinn rolled her eyes in annoyance and threw her hands up dramatically. "Don't play daft, Frannie. You know damn well what I mean. You started that trend when it was your time in high school. Us girls are just following your tradition."

"Hold on, I started a tradition?" Frannie said incredulously, her face twisted in perplexity.

"Frannie," Quinn gritted between her clenched jaw, " _focus_."

Frannie blinked a few times rapidly and nodded. "Okay, okay," Frannie said, even though her face still screamed disbelief.

"Look, we'll talk about your tradition tomorrow. It's Saturday tomorrow. Can we just focus on  _me_  right now?"

Frannie nodded again. "Alright, alright, sorry. But if I don't see you home by nine in the morning tomorrow, I'm calling the cops."

Quinn's brows rose. "Really? I'm 17!" Quinn protested. "Didn't you tell me you lost it when you were 17?"

Frannie pointed a finger in her face with stern look. "Take it or leave it, baby sister," she offered.

Quinn groaned. "Fine, whatever."

It was as if she was Hyde and Jekyll; the stern look Frannie had disappeared, replaced by a giddy and excited older sister. "So, where are you going later?"

"Where is who going?" Grandpa Fred's voice came from the entry to the kitchen as he came out with a friendly grin on his face. He leaned down to kiss Frannie on the top of the head and then rounded the table to kiss Quinn on top of her head before sitting down next to her. "Hm?" he prodded.

"Oh, nowhere. I just may have to extend baseball practice later and I might stay over at Santana's later if it gets too late," Quinn quickly said, feeling guilty about lying to her grandfather.

Frannie nodded, playing along to Quinn's lies. "Remember to text me about your decision so I can tell Mom and Dad later," Frannie said with a hidden smirk.

Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You got it."

Just then, Russell and Judy came in. Judy had her hand hooked onto Russell's arm; to someone who didn't know something was going on, they would think that her parents were just being extra clingy today. But Quinn noticed the tight grasp Judy had on Russell's forearm and the slight gait Russell had in his step.

Her brows furrowed a little and she turned to see her sister watching their parents in the same way. Frannie's gaze slowly went to Quinn and they shared a concerned look.

"Good morning," Judy greeted with a grin that seemed a little bit forced.

Quinn licked her lips and greeted in return. Mercedes came out of the kitchen with breakfast. Quinn quickly stood and headed into the kitchen to help her. She sat back down when everything was served.

"Frannie, the showcase is in two weeks! Are you ready for it?" Russell asked suddenly.

Her sister looked slightly taken aback by the question and she stammered for a bit before she answered, "Uh, yeah. I've been practicing a lot with Rachel and she thinks I'm ready."

Russell hummed. A moment later, he diverted his attention to Quinn. "What do you think, Quinn? You think your sister's ready?"

Quinn was in the middle of swallowing her omelette and she choked when she heard the question directed at her. She coughed loudly as she tried to get the omelette either  _in_  or  _out_. Her eyes watered at the effort. Grandpa Fred went on to pat her back gently as the others watched on in concern.

The omelette went in.

She sniffled and lifted the glass of water to soothe her burning throat. "What?" she gasped at her father as soon as she put down the glass, her voice raspy.

"Do you think your sister is ready?" he reiterated.

Her brows twitched and she tilted her head. She blinked a few times as she stared at her father. "I'm sorry," she blurted. "Are you like genuinely asking for my opinion or is this another way to taunt me?"

"Quinn!" her grandfather and her mother chastised.

She ignored them, just staring at her father. Instead of looking offended, as Quinn had expected as soon as she spoke, he looked kind of guilty. She watched as he sighed. "I'm genuinely asking for your opinion because I really want to know," he said slowly.

She looked to her sister to see Frannie sending a look of warning her way. "Why?" she asked again.

"Just answer the question, Quinn," her father nearly snapped, his voice raising. And then he closed his eyes, pursing his lips. He released a breath through his nose and opened his eyes.

Quinn frowned at him. She went over the question and contemplated the best way to answer. "Yes, I think Frannie is more than ready," she relented, looking back down to her half eaten omelette on her plate. And then she stood up. "Sorry, guys, I just remember I have something to finish up at school before class starts. I have to go." She grabbed the backpack she'd left hanging on the back of her chair. "Mom, I won't be home tonight. I have a late practice today, so I'll be staying at Santana's."

As worried as she might be for him, she needed time away because he was literally driving her nuts.

"But isn't it school day tomorrow?"

"Mom, it's Saturday tomorrow," she sighed. "Bye." And then she headed out of the dining room.

"Quinn!" Russell called. She paused in her steps, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then turned around to face him. "Are you not going to at least wait for me?"

She swallowed. She surveyed her father's current state. "Honestly, Dad, you kind of look under the weather to me today. I think you should take the day off."

With that, she didn't give him a chance to retort before she opened the front door and stepped out.

* * *

"Wait, so you just walked out?" Santana asked, a grin on her face as she delighted in Quinn's story.

Quinn nodded. She stared down in dismay at the glob of whatever the lunch lady just served her. "How is this edible?" she complained.

"Why do you think I never bother with the lunch lady?" Santana pulled a bag of McDonald's takeout out of thin air. Quinn briefly wondered about where Santana could have stashed the bag but got interrupted when she saw her best friend fish out two burgers and hand one to Brittany. Santana smirked at the look on Quinn's face and then fished out another one. "Don't worry. I've got one for you as well."

Quinn's face of complete dismay was instantly replaced by delight as she took the burger thankfully. "You're a godsend."

"I know," Santana answered naturally. "Bravo, by the way, for standing up to your father."

"I didn't stand up to my father," Quinn said. "I just…got kind of crazy, I guess. I don't know what got into me, honestly."

"So where is Rachel bringing you to later?" Santana asked, understanding by Quinn's tone that she didn't want to talk about her father anymore.

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know."

Santana froze. "You don't know?" Quinn nodded in affirmative. "Quinn, you might be spending the night with the lady and you don't know where she's taking you?" Santana said, her face a look of panic.

Quinn couldn't help but smile at Santana's concern for her. "Don't worry about me, San. I'll be fine."

"You barely know her!"

"Not technically."

"Quinn!"

Quinn lowered the burger and chuckled at Santana. She reached out to touch Santana's hand just as Brittany touched her shoulder. "I'll check in with you tomorrow morning  _if_  I do spend the night. Who knows? I might be a good girl today and actually stay over at yours."

"Yeah, I double that," Brittany interrupted.

Quinn looked at her and then said, "You mean you doubt that?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, didn't I say that?"

The other blonde laughed. "Tell your girlfriend I'm gonna be fine because I'm obviously not getting to her."

"San, Quinn's gonna be fine," Brittany volunteered with a reassuring smile.

"Did you really just use my girlfriend against me?" Santana said, her nose scrunched up in annoyance.

Quinn's eyes crinkled as she grinned in return. "Did it work?"

"I demand to know every detail," Santana relented after a few seconds of glaring.

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that you are using me as a decoy to go on a date with your girlfriend," Santana very easily chided. And then she mirrored Quinn's smile.

* * *

She drove her car to the Lima Bean and parked it in front of the establishment. In fact, she parked the vehicle behind Rachel's. She killed the engine and got out. She could just barely make out Rachel's small frame seated in the coffee shop.

She headed in and made a beeline towards Rachel. Rachel beamed at her as soon as she noticed her and motioned for Quinn to sit. Quinn was pleased when she saw a mocha latte on the empty side of the table. She sat down and sipped her drink appreciatively. She hummed in correspondence to her appreciation.

Rachel chuckled in amusement. "I don't know how you drink that," Rachel commented.

Quinn bit her lip. "It's good!" she claimed. "Don't you mock the beauty of mocha latte."

Rachel held her hands up in defense. "I'm not," she said as she laughed.

The blonde then beheld the drink she held in her hands and surreptitiously lifted her gaze to Rachel. "You know my drink order," she broached.

The brunette pursed her lips which slowly evolved into her biting her lower lip. Quinn grinned as she watched the woman before her twitch nervously. "Is there a problem to knowing your drink order?" Rachel finally said, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

Quinn hummed and spun the cup in her hand slowly. "No." She shook her head, her lips upturned. "I'm just surprised."

"I do pay attention when it comes to people I care deeply about," Rachel admitted. "So, you ready to go?" Quinn was not at all surprised at the sudden change of subject. She just nodded with a grin. Rachel stood up and offered Quinn her hand. "Come on, then." Quinn stared at Rachel's tanned hand, her jaw dropped slightly. "Quinn, no one knows us here," Rachel said gently.

Quinn released a feeble chuckle and took her hand. The first thought that came to Quinn's head was how their hands fit and how warm Rachel's hand was. They walked out of Lima Bean together and to Rachel's car.

Quinn's smile broadened when Rachel reached out to open the passenger door for her. "Thank you," she said softly. Rachel only smiled in return and closed the door before settling behind the wheel herself. "So where are you taking me?"

"That is a secret," Rachel answered.

"You know, my sister and my best friend are all thinking that you're kidnapping me somewhere and I can't say I disagree," Quinn mentioned.

Rachel laughed and nodded. "Yes, I know that. Frannie gave me  _the_  talk just now when we were practicing," she said with a playful wince.

"She  _what_?"

"Yeah, she said something about not hurting you and not defiling you and treating you right and to bring you back by nine in the morning tomorrow," Rachel disclosed. "Your sister is quite protective of you."

"Oh my god, I'm gonna kill her." Quinn covered her face with her hands.

Her hands were pulled away by one of Rachel's. "No, it's good. Protective sisters aren't necessarily bad."

Quinn groaned and leaned back against the headrest of her seat. "What else did she say?"

Rachel seemed to be thinking hard before she said, "Have fun and not to wear you out too much." Quinn frowned. "I think she winked at me after that." Quinn gaped at the dashboard. She reckoned she was stunned by her sister's display of nerve. "Quinn?"

Quinn snapped her eyes away from the dashboard and to Rachel. "What?" she very intelligently asked.

"So did your folks really buy that staying-over-at-a-friend's-place excuse?"

The blonde thought on that morning's events and sighed. "I don't care if they bought it," she said bitterly.

Rachel frowned. She chanced a glance at Quinn before looking back at the road. "Did something happen this morning?"

In response, Quinn recounted everything that had happened this morning. "He's just so infuriating and bipolar that I don't know how to deal with him. So I just told them I'm staying over at Santana's. I need time away from him," she added.

"Haven't you been away from him long enough when he was at that business conference? And isn't it a good thing that he asked you? That means he's starting to see things clearer." Rachel asked.

Quinn heaved a sigh. "I don't know, Rachel. On one hand, I'm worried about him because he's been acting so weird lately. He's trying to be…nice. He's never been nice in the last five years. Not to me, at least. It's just sort of freaking me out and worrying me."

There was a few seconds of silence before Rachel asked, "Do you have a theory?"

Quinn clenched her jaw as she recalled the discussion she had with Mercedes and Frannie. "Frannie and I…" she drifted off. She gulped and closed her eyes as she leaned back against the headrest. "Mercedes has this theory." She put pressure on her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. "We're thinking maybe he's sick."

"Do you really believe that?"

She let loose a solemn laugh. "I don't want to believe it." She removed her fingers from her eyes and stared down at her jean clad thighs. "I think I would take ten more years of not-nice if it meant he wouldn't be sick."

"You can't avoid the subject forever, Quinn," Rachel said. "It's no wonder Frannie looked more than a little worried when I went over for practice earlier." Quinn grunted. "Look, you know I won't ever tell you how to live your life, but here's my advice. You know your father more than I do, but I do know your father won't talk unless asked. So maybe you should one day, get him alone and ask him directly. That's gotta be better than worrying over it every day without an actual answer."

"My father is not the kind to surrender easily."

"And you are not the kind to give up easily."

Quinn scoffed and carded her hand through her hair. "I think I'm just not brave enough to face the truth," she admitted.

"I have a friend. His name is Blaine. He's very gay. He has a very unique way to encourage people to do things that they don't have the balls to do. He won't give you tough love. He won't sit you down and give you a pep talk. He just texts you the word 'courage'. All caps."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Courage, Quinn. You have it. Hell, you have a whole ton of it. But you don't know how to use it. I think this is the perfect situation to utilize your courage and confront your father about it. Maybe even team up with your sister. That's gotta work."

"What if my dad's answer will be the one we don't want to hear?"

Rachel removed a hand from the steering wheel and clasped Quinn's hand with it. Quinn thought maybe she was trying to fuse a little bit of courage into Quinn. "Then you gotta have courage to face it."

" _Lucy Quinn Fabray, now remember one thing: the truth_ _ **hurts**_ _. Oh, do they hurt. But remember another thing: it's no matter how much it hurts; the truth is always better than a lie."_


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> date night!

"Are you serious?"

They had driven out of Lima, Ohio and towards Cleveland. Quinn made sure to pester Rachel about their destination every half hour or so, but Rachel was nothing if not tenacious. She only smiled and patted Quinn on the thigh mysteriously. It was already getting dark by the time they reached Cleveland, and Rachel had finally parked in the parking lot outside of a museum.

 _Take a trip into the mind of one of the most brilliant musicians of all times, Beethoven!_ The board outside had beckoned.

Quinn's jaw inevitably dropped and she stared at the entrance, which was flanked by two men greeting the visitors. She turned back to Rachel, her eyes twinkling with anticipation and excitement.

Rachel's lips quirked and she nodded and hummed her affirmation. She took her backpack and fished out two entry tickets into the museum. "I saw the flyer when I was getting coffee one day and I thought this would be the perfect date for you," she announced. She reached out to take Quinn's hands in hers. "It's the best I can do for you."

"But this event was announced before I even  _started_  playing again!" Quinn said in disbelief.

Rachel chuckled. "I never actually thought that I would get to take you on a date. I just thought that if you ever played again, whoever was lucky enough to be your boyfriend  _should_  take you here. And then things happened," Rachel winked, "and I just had this idea."

"Turns out you're the lucky one," Quinn teased.

The brunette leaned forward to kiss Quinn. "So incredibly lucky," she whispered.

Quinn couldn't help but giggle. She then started bouncing in her seat, grinning excitedly. "Come on! We should go now!" She hurriedly opened the door to climb out of the car. Rachel had an amused smile on her face as she came out. Quinn reached for her hand and tugged on it. "Hurry up!" she urged and literally pulled Rachel with her.

"Alright, Miss Fabray, calm down. We have time," Rachel laughed, but she ran along with Quinn anyway.

* * *

Quinn wouldn't say it, but she knew that Rachel had spent more time staring at her than she did at the guide who'd been describing events and psychological researches on Beethoven's mind to them. And to be honest,  _that_  had made her happier than her delving into Beethoven's mind had.

When they reached the end of the exhibition, Quinn bravely tugged Rachel to her and planted one on the woman in front of everybody, with Beethoven's music playing in the background. She was well aware of their spectators. She was well aware of the guide's gaping at them. She was well aware of everything.

But she couldn't give a damn shit.

Rachel was gaping at her as well, only the dilation of Rachel's pupils and the flecks swirling in those brown orbs of hers had told her that it was not a negative reaction. Rachel had enjoyed it and she would very much like to do it again.

Quinn tightened her arms around the woman's waist, choosing to ignore their audience, and leaned down so her lips were next to Rachel's ear. "I love you," she whispered tenderly and pecked the lobe of her ear.

Rachel visibly shuddered in Quinn's arms and Quinn was certain that she had heard a breathy moan come from the woman's lips. Rachel buried her face in Quinn's neck and hummed in response.

"Thank you for doing this." Rachel hummed again. "Let's get out of here."

In an instant, Rachel extracted herself from Quinn's embrace and intertwined her fingers with Quinn's. Before they were completely out of his earshot, Rachel shouted a "Thank you!" to the guide and sprinted out of the establishment, dragging Quinn behind her.

As soon as they were outside, Rachel pressed herself against Quinn and claimed Quinn's lips with hers again. This time, Quinn was sure they had more gaping spectators and probably more than a couple of haters too. There was a part of her that hoped nobody she knew was around, but most of her was consumed by the burning need to push Rachel against  _something._

They only parted when air became a requirement. Rachel laughed breathlessly into Quinn's lips while Quinn only panted. They rested their foreheads against each other, using one another as support. Rachel rose onto the tip of her toes and pecked Quinn on the forehead.

"You're unbelievably addictive."

Quinn felt a rush of heat flushed up to her cheeks. "So are you," she replied.

She looked around and sighed. It took Quinn a lot to step away from Rachel and remove herself from her warmth. She held onto her hand though. Rachel looked at her in confusion.

"Not that I don't like this. I  _love_  this. It's very romantic and sweet. But there are people watching," she clarified.

Rachel's gaze shifted away from Quinn and swept the area around them. Indeed, people were watching. Some teenage boys were practically jumping for joy from across the street. A few people around them were giving them thumbs up. And then there were some with grimaces on their faces, shaking their heads.

Rachel made an 'oops' face which earned her a giggle from Quinn. Then Quinn tugged on Rachel's hand and they began a slow stroll towards the parking lot.

"So where to next?" she asked.

Rachel's lips quirked in a smirk as she shook her head. "I'm not telling you."

"Oh, come on!" Quinn protested. She even resorted to stomping her foot and pouting her lips.

Rachel laughed and pulled Quinn closer to her. "Did you actually stomp your feet?" she asked incredulously.

Quinn looked as if she was proud of herself. "I am a child at heart," she exclaimed.

"Does that make me a pedophile?"

Quinn's brow rose, in that patented Fabray way. "I  _am_ 12 years younger than you."

Rachel sobered a bit. "I think you should be the one minding that, not me." Quinn frowned. "Nobody wants an old person as their partner."

Really? She was bringing this up now? "Rachel." Rachel looked up, her lips flattened and her eyes losing that light. "You're 29. That doesn't make you old." She held up a hand to silence her when Rachel opened her mouth to speak. "You're mature. Much more than I am. Being with you allows me a person who can pull me back to the right path if I take a wrong turn."

They arrived to Rachel's car and climbed into their respective seats. Once Rachel had started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, she said, "You make me sound so noble."

"You got me back to playing!" Quinn said, an irresistible grin appearing across her face.

Rachel shook her head in refusal of the honor. "No, that was all you."

"You played a big part," the blonde argued. "You crashed into my life like a wrecking ball and basically demolished the fort I've built around me like it was  _nothing._ And you didn't even _try_ to force me. You just offered me advice and offered me _you._ You're like…the catalyst."

"One of the reasons I love you is because you have a way with words that no one else does," Rachel said with a tender smile.

Quinn's breath hitched in her throat. "And one of the reasons I love you is because you still find me lovable even when you saw how damaged I was."

"You're not damaged, Quinn. You were just waiting for someone to heal you."

"That's you," Quinn claimed without a moment of reluctance. "I wouldn't want anyone else to be that person."

Rachel chuckled in delight. She took one of her hands off the steering wheel and took Quinn's hand in it. Quinn squeezed back.

* * *

A drive-in theater.

Quinn could only gawk as Rachel maneuvered the car into an empty space, just slightly to the left of the big screen. Quinn looked around her to see cars driving in and parking in empty spaces. Some cars were filled with lovers; some with families; some with loners. Quinn then saw the platform behind with a boy twiddling with the projector secured on the platform.

She looked back to Rachel who was unabashedly staring at her with relish. Quinn could barely stop herself from clapping her hands. She settled on grinning like a maniac.

"What are we watching?" she asked.

Rachel shrugged. "I don't actually know," Rachel said, her eyes squinting a bit.

"But you brought me here. How could you not know?"

"Well, I researched the place on the internet. But I never actually found out what movies they are playing tonight."

"Well, aren't you meticulous?" Quinn teased.

Rachel stuck her tongue out. "Thank you. Anyway, we'll just have to take what we can get, right?"

"But what if the movie sucks?"

"Hey now," Rachel chastised, pointing a patronizing finger at her, "I didn't drive all the way here for you to be an ungrateful child."

Quinn stuck her tongue out in return. "I  _am_  a child, thank you very much."

Rachel chuckled. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked as she looked up and shook her head.

"Hopefully, keep on loving me," Quinn answered, having sobered down from her excitement and anticipation.

Rachel lowered her gaze and turned to the blonde. She nodded. "That, I can do," she declared.

Before they could say anything else, the enormous screen in front of them lit up, and they turned towards the screen. As the movie began, the title scrolled in bold letters across the screen.

 _To Catch a Thief_ , it read in glaring letters.

Her favorite movie. She grinned and jumped in her seat. Rachel leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I actually did research the movies."

This time, Quinn just acted on impulse and leaped on Rachel right there.

* * *

It was already ten by the time the movie ended. Rachel drove them to a park that was closed for the night. She took out a basket and a rolled up blanket from the trunk.

"Come on, you gotta break the rules once or twice in your life!" Rachel had exclaimed and then decided to show off her parkour skills by leaping over the fence.

Quinn had sighed and stared at the fence, those sharp, spikey things at the top taunting her. Rachel was already on the other side and eagerly waving at her to follow suit. Quinn shook her head in surrender and took hold of the protruding spikes on top and hauled herself up. She was careful to not let her arms give out and drop her  _on_  those things.

She landed on the other side with some clumsiness and threw her arms up in success. " _Yes_!" she yelped, her voice sharp.

Rachel quickly shushed her, putting a finger to her own lips. Quinn's grin widened and she mimicked Rachel. They took hold of each other's hands and crept through the trees and flowers; listening to bugs chirping to each other in the night, calling out to the moon.

They reached a clearing with a wide horizon of shimmering lake before them. There was a full moon that evening, and it illuminated the night, inviting them and emanating a mysterious vibe around them. Instead of being creeped out, Quinn felt as if the place was just welcoming them into its open arms. The symphony of insects helped a lot.

"There won't be snakes, right?" Quinn voiced out loud as she helped Rachel lay out the checkered blanket on the grass.

Rachel snickered. "Is Quinn Fabray afraid of snakes?"

Quinn snorted. "I'm just careful," she retorted.

Rachel hummed in mock agreement. She motioned for Quinn to sit down on the blanket, so Quinn sat and stretched her legs in front of her, watching as Rachel settled next to her and put the basket she'd been carrying between them.

"This, milady, is our supper," Rachel announced as she flipped up the lid of the basket with a flourish.

Inside, there were sandwiches stacked on a plate and a jar of strawberry jam. There was a bottle of champagne sleeping in the basket, with two glasses next to it. There were also a jar filled with candies and a loaf of bread.

The brunette took out a sandwich and gave it to Quinn. "Enjoy," she said. Quinn hummed gratefully and took a bite of the sandwich. "How is it?"

Quinn nodded and moaned slightly. "It's delicious." She opened her eyes to see Rachel's irises had thinned and her pupils dilated. "What?"

Rachel shook her head like a puppy and then went ahead to fish out the loaf of bread and the jar of jam. "You  _have_ to stop making those noises while you're eating."

Quinn then realized she had moaned when she ate the sandwich. "Oops," she said with an unapologetic smile.

She looked around her; the vast expanse of green and the beam of moonlight illuminating them in a shade of blue, and the trees and flowers surrounding them. She marveled at the wildlife lingering those shrubs, not disturbing in the least.

"You know, you are a bad influence," she finally said.

"Huh?" Rachel said, looking quizzical.

Quinn held out a fist. "You taught me to lie to my parents about spending the night with you." A finger protruded, tallying the wrongs. "You took me  _out_  of town without me even asking permission from my folks." Another finger. "You even made me a sort-of voyeur at the museum." Third finger. " _And then_  you made me commit a crime by trespassing into a forbidden area." Final finger. "You're a bad influence," she concluded.

"I'm adding color to your life!" Rachel defended, spreading jam all over a piece of bread, her face exuding unblinking defense. "You'll thank me for this."

"What if we get arrested tomorrow?" Quinn questioned.

"See? More fun, more experience. I'm doing good to you," Rachel insisted. She didn't even look worried. "Now eat your sandwich. Do you know how hard it was for me to actually cook bacon? Those poor little pigs."

"So noble," Quinn deadpanned.

"You're damn right."

Quinn laughed but ate the sandwich anyway. "How long did it take for you to plan this?"

Rachel's eyes lifted, her finger tapping her chin as she seemed to be deep in thought. "About a week," she finally said.

"Well, it's pretty impressive for you to be able to come up with this in just a week," Quinn praised.

"Thank you," Rachel appreciated without much abash, her arms stretched out in front of her in a flourish.

Quinn eyed the champagne in the basket and then back to Rachel. "You do remember I am seventeen, right?" Rachel hummed as an affirmation. "I can't drink alcohol at seventeen."

"Don't you remember what I said? I'm adding color to your life!" Rachel repeated, feigning outrage. "Plus, this is like a really mild champagne. There's barely any alcohol in it. I stole it from Jemma's collection."

"You stole from your best friend?" Quinn asked.

Rachel shrugged. "Skye absolutely  _hates_  the existence of this stuff. She said it's abhorrent for a champagne with such low percentage of alcohol to even exist. She'll thank me for stealing it."

"She won't be when she realizes I'm the one who drank it."

Rachel smirked at Quinn. "Are you saying you  _are_  going to drink it?"

Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, I can't possibly put it to waste when you've already brought it."

"I'm very proud of you," Rachel claimed. She took out the bottle along with the two glasses. She uncapped it with a quiet whoop and then poured the content into the glasses. She handed one to Quinn and held the other in her hand by the stem. "Let's have a toast."

Quinn obliged by offering her glass. "What are we toasting to?"

"To adding color to Quinn Fabray's life!" Rachel exclaimed.

Quinn chuckled. "To the future Broadway career that Rachel Berry  _will_  have!"

"And to  _us_ ," Rachel said with a grin.

Quinn nodded in agreement. "To us."

They knocked their glasses together. Rachel knocked hers back. Quinn only took a sip, testing the liquid in mouth and then finally swallowing, leaving a tangy aftertaste in the back of her throat. She grimaced slightly at the mild bitterness of the drink but hummed in appreciation of the fruity aftertaste.

"Good?" Rachel asked.

Quinn stared at the glass for a moment, at the clear golden liquid swirling in the glass with the bubbles floating to the top in slow motion. "I'm not sure," she concluded.

Rachel laughed. "Don't worry. That's how I feel the first time I had champagne. You'll get used to it." Quinn watched as she poured more into her own glass. "Will you be at your sister's showcase in two weeks?"

Quinn stared ahead at the lake. "Of course I will."

"And?"

Quinn turned back to the woman. "And what?"

"How do you feel about it?" Quinn narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Do you feel jealous? Or something like that?"

Quinn licked her bottom lip, allowing her tongue to linger on the right edge of her lips. "No," she said after around five seconds of concentration. She shrugged and sipped from her glass. "I'm proud of her." Rachel tilted her head. "I told you, Rach, I don't want to perform. Like you said, I want to play for the sake of playing."

Rachel's smile widened. "That's good, Quinn." She rested backwards, until she was completely lying down on the blanket. Quinn followed suit. "I forgot to ask but what are you studying when you go to Yale next year?"

"English," Quinn informed her.

"You don't wanna do music?" Rachel asked.

Quinn's lips turned downwards and she shook her head. "Nah." She turned from the moon to Rachel, her head turned sideways on the blanket. "That part of my life is over now."

"Which part?" Rachel prodded.

"The part where I wanna study music because I want it for a career," Quinn elaborated. "Right now, I'm just playing because I enjoy it. Yes, I may be excellent at it. Yes, I may have a natural knack for music. But I don't want to…" Quinn clicked her tongue and hissed quietly as she searched for the right word.

"Exploit?" Rachel provided.

Quinn snapped her fingers. "Yes!" she whispered harshly. "I don't want to exploit it. I don't want to let it get to my head. I just want to do it for fun, you know. Maybe on family occasions. Maybe when I'm being particularly unbalanced that day and decide to play at a nameless music store. Who knows?" For the next few minutes, Rachel was quiet. Quinn opened her eyes to see Rachel staring at her with awe and admiration. "What?"

"You're incredible," Rachel said softly. Quinn blushed. "I'm sure you'll turn out to be a wonderful writer."

"How do you know I want to be a writer?"

Rachel winked and grinned. "Skye might have mentioned once or twice about you approaching her on pursuing a career in writing. She said you have talent in it as well."

Quinn grinned as well. "She really said that?" Rachel nodded. "Oh, thank god," she whispered.

"Seems to me that you're good at a lot of stuff."

"I just pick things up quickly," Quinn said humbly.

"I'm sure you do."

They spent about fifteen minutes in silence, their hands clasped together in the middle of the blanket. They simply allowed themselves to relish in the comfort of the night, the cool breeze in the air and the familiarity of each other's company. And then Quinn broke the silence.

"Do you really think my dad will still love me if I tell him about us?" she asked weakly, her voice laced with fear and doubt.

"Yes," Rachel answered doubtlessly.

"What if he doesn't love me enough to keep me around?"

"Okay, first of all," Rachel's voice cut through the air as it increased in strength, "you are not an object. You're not just something to 'keep around'." Rachel had to release Quinn's hand to air quote and Quinn whimpered at the loss of her touch. "Second of all, I don't think your dad will do that."

"Do what?"

"Kick you out, was what you're implying. And I don't think he'll do that," Rachel said.

"No?"

Rachel shook her head. "Like you said, he's changing. He's not as stubborn as he was. He's not as mean as he was. Give him a chance, Quinn. He deserves it."

"What if he  _does_  kick me out?"

"Well, I do know that there's one Miss Skye Avery who offered you her humble abode if things go south," Rachel said. Quinn's eyes widened. Rachel laughed. "Jemma said and I quote: 'Can you believe my girlfriend offered yours  _your_  room if things don't go her way?'"

"Oh god, she's not angry, is she?"

Rachel laughed aloud at that and shook her head. "No! She told me to tell you that they will have  _another_  brand new room ready for you if things don't go your way."

"Are you kidding me?" Quinn said, her tone completely flat.

"Oh, honey, I wish she was." Quinn blushed at the casual drop of endearment which Rachel didn't seem to notice. "But she wasn't. I think she already ordered a brand new mattress and a desk and a chair for you. Skye's completely horrified."

Quinn quickly propped herself on her right elbow, lying sideways and facing Rachel. "Tell me you're not serious!" Quinn demanded.

Rachel shook her head. "I won't lie to you."

Quinn collapsed back onto her back. "Seriously, is your best friend like the nicest person on earth or something?"

"Sometimes, I think she is. You know, she lived in Chicago once. She picked up a stray baby squirrel from the street and she kept it as a pet for about one month until animal control came. Apparently, it's illegal to keep squirrel as pets in Chicago."

"What?" Quinn said, with laughter in her voice.

"I'm not lying. It legitimately happened," Rachel said in her serious voice. "I was convinced Skye was lying when she told me that story but then Jemma confirmed it herself. She said that the poor squirrel was so skinny and she was just thinking of feeding it for a day but then she got attached."

"Did it have a name?"

"Walter," Rachel revealed.

"Oh my god, it's legit."

"What did I tell you?"

"What did animal control do?"

"She has absolutely no idea. She actually broke down crying talking about it when it happened like two or three years ago. Jemma Simmons is a very,  _very_  nice person who would actually hide stray wildlife from the street in her closet. And buy new mattresses for her best friend's girlfriend just in case."

Quinn burst out laughing. It was a full out laugh with her arm over her stomach and near tears at the edge of her eyes. Rachel laughed along. They only stopped when Quinn's stomach grew too painful. And then her brain seemed to have clicked on something and her breath hitched audibly.

"What?" Rachel asked.

Quinn's head turned to her slowly, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Did you just call me your girlfriend?" she said weakly.

Rachel's mouth opened slightly. And then anxiety filled her dark brown eyes. "I did," she said carefully. "Is that a problem?" Her voice was content with wariness.

"No!" Quinn quickly said. She sat upright and shook her head to emphasize her point. "No," she repeated more patiently. "It's just…" She licked her lips. "We've never really talked about what we are. I don't know…I guess I just never really was sure what we are."

Rachel lifted herself up. She moved the basket away from between them and moved in closer until their bodies were touching. She took Quinn's chin between her thumb and forefinger gently and smiled. "I love you," she declared. "I'm lucky. There is  _nothing_  more I would want than to call you my girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Really, really," Rachel confirmed.

Quinn laughed unbelievably, her breath brushing Rachel's skin. "Kiss me," she demanded in a whisper.

"Much obliged," Rachel answered and did exactly as Quinn asked.

It wasn't a hard kiss. It was the opposite of desperate. It was more a slower game of cat and mouse. When Rachel sought it, Quinn would draw back. But then she would offer it up again, tempting Rachel. Finally tired of the game, Rachel's hand roamed over Quinn's cheek and cupped it firmly, pressing her lips forward to Quinn's.

Quinn gasped into Rachel's mouth as her tongue touched Quinn's lips. Rachel, utilizing this opportunity, delved between her parted lips and into the depths of her mouth. It was a sweet invasion, to taste Rachel in her mouth. She moaned and pushed forward. Rachel, being an unrelenting woman, pushed back and managed to push Quinn onto her back, herself on top of the girl.

Rachel's free hand snaked around Quinn's waist tenderly as she moved one leg between Quinn's thighs, situating her thigh firmly against Quinn's crotch. Quinn moaned louder and lifted her hips slightly.

Quinn experimentally thrust her tongue against Rachel's. Rachel grunted and her grip on Quinn's waist tightened. As Rachel's arm encircled around the small of Quinn's back and her hand traveled to the back of Quinn's neck, Quinn's left hand gripped onto Rachel's hip and her other hand cupped Rachel's cheek.

It was as if they couldn't spend any second with air drifting between them. There was a sort of magnetic effect between their bodies.

It wasn't long before Rachel's hand drew away from Quinn's back and tentatively touched the edge of Quinn's breast through the thin material of her button down. Quinn exhaled a feeble gasp; it was the first time she'd been touched there. Rachel slowly released Quinn's lips and pulled back just a bit so she could look at Quinn in the eye.

Quinn gulped as doubts packed her mind. She wanted this. She did. She wanted Rachel to have this. But, "I'm not ready," she whispered, almost apologetically.

Quinn could see the minor disappointment in Rachel's eyes. Quinn wondered if she would ever not be able to read her eyes. But other than that, Rachel understood. She smiled and nodded. "Okay." Her hand drew away from Quinn's breast and reached up to cup her cheek. Quinn sighed as her thumb stroked her chin gently. "It's okay," Rachel reassured.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mouthed.

"Hey," Rachel said, "it's  _fine_." She brushed away a stray tear leaking from Quinn's eye with her thumb. "We have time. We can wait."

It took Quinn a few moments to gather herself. She didn't allow Rachel to pull away though, so Rachel didn't. She stayed on top of Quinn, engulfing the girl with her comforting warmth.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked after a few minutes of silence.

Quinn nodded with a fragile smile. "Yeah," she said. She swallowed and opened her eyes, her smile widening a fraction. "If it's any comfort, I think I'm kind of wet right now."

Rachel laughed, a hint of desperation in her eyes. She shook her head and leaned down to peck Quinn's lips. "It's not," she said with a grin.

"It's not?" Quinn winced.

"Nope." Rachel shook her head again.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Quinn apologized, burying her head in Rachel's chest as she held the woman tightly against her.

Rachel laughed and kissed the top of Quinn's head. "I love you."

"We could…fall asleep like this? Until tomorrow morning?" she asked doubtfully.

The brunette nodded without reluctance at all. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," she croaked.

They shifted into a more comfortable position. Quinn nuzzled her nose against Rachel's neck, breathing in her scent. Her eyes grew drowsy as Rachel's hand stroked Quinn's hair softly.

She swore she couldn't love anyone else more than she loved the woman in her arms right now.

" _Lucy dearest, if you're not ready to do something –_ _ **anything**_ _– then don't do it. Don't let anyone pressure you into doing something you're not ready for. They're not worth it. But if there's someone who understand that you're not ready to do it, you_ _ **have**_ _to keep them around. It' s a rule."_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited. please bear with my mistakes.

Someone was calling out her name and shaking her awake. She moaned in protest and burrowed herself deeper into the warmth and the soft material surrounding her. However, the intruder of her peace would not cease and she landed a feeble punch on the person, except it really didn't do much except extract a chuckle from the person.

When they wouldn't stop shaking her, she grunted aloud and drew away from the darkness to open her eyes and see Rachel's smiling face looming above her. She could imagine the question marks popping up above her head but then it clicked after a few seconds.

"Good morning," Rachel greeted gently, one hand on Quinn's cheek.

She grunted and fell back, lounging an arm over her eyes. "What time is it?" If she was to guess, she would guess that it was some ungodly hour of the morning because it was still dark.

"5.30."

"No."

Rachel laughed. "Yes."

She shook her head vigorously and immediately regretted when she felt an ache surge into her lobe. "No," she repeated.

"Wake up, sunshine," Rachel teased.

She removed her arm from her eyes and stretched her arm out at the only slightly brighter sky. "There's not even sun!" she complained weakly, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Rachel hummed in agreement and snaked an arm under Quinn's torso to lift her up. Quinn obliged. "Which is why I've woken you up." She flourished her arm in front of her at the lake, at the horizon of the lake where there was already a peek of golden yellow light.

Quinn, confused, squinted at the horizon, trying to get her bearings. "You did not wake me up just to watch the sunrise," she said, her tone dead.

Rachel puckered her lips and smiled. "Yes, I did," she said without even a hint of regret.

Quinn groaned and rolled her eyes upwards. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"You fell in love with a morning person," Rachel answered.

"I didn't ask you," Quinn pouted, her eyes remained on the sky still lit with stars.

"Well, unless you're dead – which I hope you won't be for a  _long_  time – he's not going to talk to you," Rachel said cheekily. "Now watch the sunrise with me."

Quinn, as unwilling and sleepy as she was, was still very much in love with the woman who had her arms tightly wrapped around her. So she sighed and shifted her gaze downwards towards the horizon. "Pretty sure if you're such a morning person, you'd have watched a lot of sunrises in your 29 years of life."

Rachel nodded and rested her cheek on Quinn's shoulder. "But I've never watched one with  _you_."

Like  _The Flash_ , Quinn's mood shifted from sullen to content. Her heart burst with energy at Rachel's words and she turned slightly to kiss Rachel on the head. Rachel hummed in content and tightened her arms around Rachel's waist. Quinn shifted her position so she could lift her arm and enclose it around Rachel's shoulders.

As the seconds ticked by, they watched as the orange sphere slowly rose from its hiding place. The beckoning light bathed their skin with warmth and glimmer. Weirdly enough, Quinn felt as if some darkness in her had dissipated while it rose inch by inch.

Perhaps it was also because of the woman in her arms.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rachel whispered solemnly.

Quinn turned to look down at the side profile of Rachel. "Yes, it is," she whispered in reply.

* * *

Quinn had Rachel pull over just a few blocks from her home. Rachel, understanding Quinn's purpose, did so with a displeased frown on her face.

"Kind of tired of sneaking around like this," Rachel said quietly.

Quinn sighed and made contact to pull Rachel's hand into her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rachel turned her hand over to close her fingers around Quinn's hand. "Don't be sorry. I just…I don't like having to pull over a few blocks away and let you walk home. I don't like having you lie to your family for me."

"You're saying it like it's your fault," Quinn said.

"Isn't it?" Rachel sent her a guilty look as she bit her lip.

"Rachel, stop it," Quinn chastised. "We've talked about this last night. Enough of this self-blaming business." She lifted Rachel's hand and kissed her tan skin. "I love you. There's no turning back now."

Rachel smiled and nodded, brushing her hand through her hair. She looked at the clock displayed on the stereo system and laughed as she gestured at it. "Well, on the other hand, your sister will know that I am one to keep my promise."

Quinn followed her gaze and saw that there were still thirty minutes until nine in the morning which was the time Rachel had promised she'd send her home. She laughed along. "Do you have a lesson with her today?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, I'll just go home, freshen up, eat some breakfast and come back over. This time, I'll park right in your driveway."

Quinn's smile extended into a grin. She leaned over the console and kiss Rachel. Rachel inclined forward as well and they ended up meeting in the middle. Quinn laughed into Rachel's mouth, giving Rachel the opportunity to give her a full blown kiss.

Quinn sucked in air hastily and moaned. Rachel pushed her back slightly, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek. Quinn subconsciously tightened her grip on Rachel's hand which was still in her lap.

They broke apart, Quinn yelping, when her cellphone rang in her pocket.

"Jesus Christ," Quinn hissed as she fumbled for the device. She glanced to Rachel who still had slightly panicked look in her eyes. Quinn cursed again when she saw who the caller was. "I'm gonna kill her." She pressed the green button remarkably violently and brought it up to her ear. "Not a good time, Santana," she seethed.

"Oh, did I interrupt lazy morning sex?" Santana snarked.

Quinn covered her eyes with her palm as she muttered, "Unbelievable." She sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. "Just hold on a second."

"I'm not sure a second will suffice for you two," Santana responded instantly. Quinn could hear the smirk across the line.

"Fine," she snapped. "Give me like ten minutes." Without waiting for another snarky reply, she put down the phone and faced Rachel again who was now smiling in amusement. "I gotta go," she announced with regret.

Rachel nodded and patted her hand. "I'll see you later."

Quinn winced and looked down at her now very hateful cellphone. "Yeah, I'm not sure if that's possible. If I assume correctly, Santana's gonna drag me out later and not let me go home until at least dinner."

Rachel's smile dimmed. "Is it legal if the homicide happens because the victim is interrupting a couple's time to be a couple?" she asked deliberately.

Quinn couldn't help but laughed. She leaned over the console to give the woman a quick peck on the lips. "I'll call you tonight if I don't see you, alright?"

"Alright," Rachel relented with an exaggerated sigh. "Just leave me here by my lonesome and let me miss you like an idiot. It's no big deal at all."

"Oh stop being such a baby," Quinn teased. "I love you," she shot as she opened the door.

"Wait!"

Rachel pulled her back by her hand and laid her lips over Quinn's, darting her tongue between Quinn's already parted lips. Quinn dropped her phone between her lap and wrapped an arm around Rachel's torso to get a nearly full experience. Who knew making out in a car could feel so invigorating? She more or less groaned in annoyance when Rachel drew back.

"I currently hate my best friend."

Rachel looked similarly annoyed. "I wouldn't blame you." Just at that moment, her own cellphone rang in her pocket. Rachel dug it out with much ease and released a chuckle when she saw the caller. "Now, it's  _my_ best friend."

Quinn laughed and opened the door. "I love you," she said.

Rachel let the phone keep on ringing and squeezed Quinn's hand. "I love you too."

Quinn winked and let go of Rachel's hand reluctantly. And then she slammed the door close. Rachel waved her goodbye as she responded to the call. Quinn watched as she drove away. And then only did she put her own phone back to her ear.

"That was definitely more than ten minutes," Santana deadpanned.

"Shove off it," Quinn snapped. "What do you want?"

"By the way, first of all,  _ew_. I could basically hear you tonguing each other  _over_   _the phone_. You lovebirds need to keep it on the down low. Second of all, I heard everything you both said to each other and again,  _ew_."

Quinn's face flushed with faint red. "You know what, I had to hear you and Brittany dirty talk to each other  _and_  making out with each other quite literally for the past two years so you can just take it up your ass."

"Oh, Brittany and I are so different."

"You're right. You deserve more  _ew_ 's than I do."

"Fine, whatever." She heard some shuffling so she assumed Santana was getting out of bed. "So how did it go?" And then she heard inaudible mumbling on the other side of the connection. She could recognize Brittany's voice fairly easily. "So?" Santana urged.

"Were you in bed with Brittany?" Quinn asked.

"What? I can't have a date night too?"

"Just in advance,  _ew_." She heard the Latina curse in Spanish and smiled triumphantly to herself. She could already see her house at the end of the path. "She took me to Cleveland."

"She took you out of town?"

"Yeah."

"What did you do in Cleveland?"

"Well, she took me to a music exhibition. You wouldn't get it." She rolled her eyes when she heard Santana mutter in agreement. "It was really sweet and thoughtful." Quinn decided to spare her the gory details of them making out with an audience. "And then we went to a drive-thru theater."

"Shut. Up."

Quinn grinned giddily and giggled. "She did!" she exclaimed. "I felt in a dream but then I pinched myself and it actually wasn't. She took me to an  _actual_  drive-thru theater."

"You've wanted to go to one in years!" Santana exclaimed.

"I know!" She turned into the driveway of her house. "Can you believe it?"

"What was airing?"

" _To Catch a Thief_."

There was a long moment of silence and really, Quinn couldn't blame her. She fished out her keys from her backpack and unlocked the front door as she waited for her best friend to process the information.

"Oh my god, I've got to up my game," Santana said pathetically. "What the hell is she?"

Quinn breathed dreamily and stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her. "The perfect one."

"Oh shove off it," Santana grumbled.

"Don't be sad that you're not up to her par."

"I'll be over her par in no time," Santana continued to grumble.

Quinn giggled. "That doesn't even make sense." When she entered the living room, Mercedes was sweeping the floor. Mercedes wiggled her fingers at Quinn with a cheerful smile. Quinn smiled in return and air-kissed the woman before climbing up the stairs.

"What next?"

"I think I committed a crime. A minor one but a crime still," she added.

"What kind of crime?"

Quinn poked her head into her sister's bedroom to see Frannie still snoring on her bed. Quinn couldn't help the snort that escaped her before she closed the door. "Come again?" she asked.

"What kind of crime?" Santana repeated.

Quinn headed to her own room. "Trespassing," she said absently.

Santana snorted. "That doesn't even qualify."

"I trespassed into a private property!" Quinn exclaimed as she entered her room and locked the door.

"I've done that like a zillion times," Santana proclaimed as if it was something to be proud about.

"I'm not even surprised," Quinn said drily and threw herself onto her bed and rolled over onto her back. "Anyway, she made me do that. I almost lost my uterus for that."

"Hold up, what?" Santana intruded.

Quinn went ahead to describe the fence's structure to Santana. She still got shivers from the thought of her holding herself up over the sharp, spiky things, risking her sex life. She frowned when Santana burst out cackling in her ear, offended. "It's not funny," she said.

"It so is."

"It's  _not_."

"Oh my god!" Santana shrieked. "What I would  _give_  to see you do that!"

"At this rate, you're gonna wake Brittany up," Quinn warned.

"Oh don't worry. I'm in the living room. She won't hear a thing."

Quinn closed her eyes.  _Damn it_. She sent a mental calling to her other best friend, pleading her to wake up and take Santana away. "Stop  _laughing_ ," she whined. She grumbled under her breath.

Moments later, when Santana finally stopped cackling, she asked, "Okay, what did you do in that private property?"

"We had a picnic. Rachel made me BLT. Can you believe it? She actually made me BLT," Quinn gushed.

"I don't see what the big deal is. You love BLT. She makes you BLT. I think it's completely fine."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she wondered how Santana managed to bag Brittany when she was such an unromantic human being. "She's a vegan."

"Well, that explains why she's so boring."

"Santana!"

"What? Whatever. What else did you do? Did you finally lose it? Is that weight finally off your shoulders? Have you finally come to light to the pleasures of fingering and scissoring and other naughty, naughty things?"

Quinn reddened as she felt heat rushed up to her cheeks in no time. "Santana," she warned gloomily.

"Did you?" Santana prodded, immune to Quinn's gloomy attitude.

Quinn recalled back to last night, when they were  _nearly_  there. But she just couldn't do it. "I wasn't ready," she said softly, jolliness quickly stormed over by guilt and shame. She felt the shift between them, Santana matching her. "We were almost there, San. I was actually…turned on." She shuddered slightly at what Rachel was capable of doing to her. "But she touched me some place no one's ever touched me before, I became a coward." She felt her throat clogged up and her eyes water.

"What did she say, Q?" Santana asked gently, her previous mocking behavior gone.

Quinn burst into tears immediately. "She-she was so nice and thoughtful. She d-didn't lash out at me or anything. She  _actually_ fucking smiled at me and told that it's-it's okay. I knew that she was turned on as well and she wanted it. But I wasn't ready and she just-she didn't try to force me at all."

"I know what you're thinking, Quinn. And let me tell you, you don't  _have_  to feel guilty about it." Bull's eye. She wasn't Quinn's best friend for no reason after all. "What you do with your body is a decision you make on your own. No one can force you. You can stay a virgin until you're 30 and that's not wrong – although it will be kind of weird if you do stay a virgin until you're 30 and I might actually judge you," Santana added.

A laugh escaped from Quinn's lips. "Santana," she sobbed with a smile.

"You're not a coward. You just know you're not ready and congratulations for not relenting under pressure. Good job."

"I really hope you're not being sarcastic," Quinn said, though she knew that Santana wasn't.

"I'm not!" Santana stressed. "If you're not ready, then don't do it. Simple as that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Santana reaffirmed. "And remind me to congratulate Berry too for being able to hold back and let you be yourself."

It's been so long since Quinn had seen – or heard – this side of Santana that it kind of took her aback. She then smiled, grateful that she had such a great best friend. "You're an awesome best friend," Quinn praised.

"I know."

Quinn rolled her eyes and laughed.

* * *

"So how was the date?" Frannie asked as they were on their way to pick up Quinn's car from the café.

"It was fine," Quinn replied curtly and stared ahead. She waited, knowing Frannie wouldn't be able to stand it.

"That's it?"  _Bingo_.

Quinn smiled triumphantly. "I'm not telling you a thing," she hooted.

"Oh come on!" Frannie miffed.

Quinn giggled and shook her head. She mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing the key away.

"So unfair," her sister grumbled. Frannie took a right and kept driving for a few more quiet and impatient seconds. "At least tell me she didn't defile you last night."

Quinn choked and slapped her sister on the arm. "That is such a crude word! Rachel is a trustworthy and honorable woman, I'll have you know." Frannie clicked her tongue. "No, we didn't do the deed last night." She smiled when she heard Frannie released a breath of relief audibly. "You do know that one day in the future I'm going to do it and you won't be able to stop me, right?"

"I don't want to know about my sister's sex life," Frannie quipped.

"Then why did you ask?" Quinn persisted.

"A mistake I will never repeat," Frannie snapped. Quinn giggled. Frannie glanced at her in a helpless way. "I just care about you. I mean, even though you're already 17, you're still my little sister who used to beg me to accompany her to the playground."

"About to turn 18," Quinn reminded.

"A moot point," Frannie dismissed nonchalantly. "But yes, I am aware of that. You're gonna turn 18 and you're gonna go to college and god knows what you're gonna do in college."

"Speaking of," Quinn lilted.

"Oh please no."

"What are your plans after the showcase?"

Frannie was quiet for a long moment and Quinn was about to repeat when she said, "I talked to Daddy about going to Kaplan."

Quinn's brows rose. "For?"

"Criminal Justice."

There was no physical reaction but safe to say that Quinn was considerably shocked by that revelation. And knowing her well, Frannie knew that she was shocked and chuckled. "You didn't actually have to take Mercedes and I seriously, you know," Quinn said.

Frannie nodded understandingly. "Of course I know that. I might not be as smart as you but I have above average IQ too." Quinn rolled her eyes. "Or maybe I am as smart as you," Frannie muttered. "I chose criminal justice because after what you and Mercedes joked about it, I remember a lot of times when I've displayed similar attributes in my life."

"Oh really?" Quinn spoke, propping her head in her hand.

"Really. I realized when I was in high school, people would ask me to look for lost items for them or tell them who their boyfriend or girlfriend is cheating on them with. Very trivial stuff, but I was always so buzzed about it. I think I loved doing this kind of thing, solving mysteries because you know just how much I  _hate_  mysteries."

"Because they  _need_  to be solved," Quinn imitated her sister with a stubborn tone Frannie always used whenever she was determined about something.

Frannie waved a hand in her direction with a head inclination. "Exactly."

"What did Daddy say then?" Quinn asked.

Frannie hummed and smiled. "He was very accepting about it," she answered. "Even  _I_ was surprised. I thought he would try to force me to pursue music so I made a PowerPoint the night before, detailing all my talents and the benefits I would derive. Nevertheless, it was a waste. And I couldn't be happier."

"He really didn't say anything remotely taunting or disapproving?"

"No." Quinn was still skeptical and was about to pursue. "Quinn," Frannie started, "he's changing."

The younger Fabray looked away from her sister and stared at the empty road ahead of them. "Why?" she questioned softly.

The question hung in the air between them, like a heavy load about to squash them. "I'm scared too," Frannie said in the end.

Quinn closed her eyes and hoped for the best.

* * *

Frannie headed home after she dropped her off at Lima Bean, claiming she had a session with Rachel. Quinn's heart had sped up just slightly at the mention of her girlfriend.  _Girlfriend_. Quinn still couldn't quit smiling regardless if she thought or said the word.

Frannie had rolled her eyes and sped off. Quinn bit her lower lip to obscure her grin but her lips could only just widen and reveal her teeth as she grinned a whole lot brighter. She sighed in defeat to herself, knowing that this reaction would persist for at least another two days. She fished out her key fob and pressed on it before opening the door to the driver's seat.

She considered her next destination. There wasn't anywhere she could go. She couldn't run at this hour. Santana and Brittany were probably going at it like rabbits again. She swore those two never stop. In the end, she plotted her drive home.

Rachel was already parked in her driveway and exiting her car, completely changed and freshened up. After last night, it was as if Quinn had a different exposure to Rachel's allure. And Quinn had to gulp to hydrate her suddenly dry throat.

She drove past Rachel to park her car in the garage and got out, electing to enter through the front door instead of through the kitchen door. Rachel had this mysterious smile on her face as if there was a secret only they knew.

And there  _was_. A big one.

Quinn mimicked her smile. A sudden boldness flooded her and she walked next to Rachel, no space between them at all, matching her pace. Their hands brushed against each other countless times and Quinn felt the electric every time. When they crossed the threshold, Quinn glanced at Rachel with a cryptic smile before they parted ways in the living room; Rachel to the music room and Quinn up the stairs.

She paused in her steps when she saw the door to the study slight ajar, leaving a slit for peeping toms. She was one of them. She tried to remain inconspicuous as she peeked in through the slit.

Her father was sitting there, all alone. She was struck by an overwhelming sense of anguish when she saw that he was studying a music book;  _her_ music book with edges of its pages dog eared and yellowing and the title fading. He was studying it, flipping it from one page to another. It wasn't just  _that_  that made her feel like this. It was the look in his eyes: ache, longing, a burning yearn.

She was just about to flee when something on the desk caught her eye. She covered her mouth to conceal the gasp that escaped her lips.

There were  _bottles_  of pills on the desk, in all colors like that rainbow. She couldn't discern the writing but with the number of them, she could only guess they were nothing good. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she found herself understanding the situation.

Quinn drew back and rested with her back against the wall just by the door, her legs having weakened at the sight of those pills. She fought to gain control of her breathing, her chest rising and falling and rising and falling, slowing with its pace.

She rushed towards her room in a sprint and closed the door behind her. And then she paced the floor, wringing her hands in her hair, almost tearing clunks out. Her mind was errant with thoughts and confusion and blind fear.

She had no idea what to do.

And then she remembered something her grandmother had told her when she was in middle school and her father had started to grow stricter and more distant.

And she knew just what to do.

So she combed her messy hair and stiffened herself to stop shaking and opened the door. She made a beeline to the study but didn't look into the room, afraid that she would cower out if she saw it again. She rapped her knuckles against the wood and listened as drawers opened and closed and books being closed and  _pills_  knocking against the walls of their container.

"Come in."

She opened the door and walked in, watching as her father's face drawn with surprise at the sight of her. She sat down firmly and leaned back, trying to look as relaxed as she could, but she knew that he knew that she was the opposite of relax.

Like people always said, she was the most like her father.

"Let's play a game," she exclaimed.

The surprise on his face increased in its intensity. "Okay," he said tentatively. If it was five years ago, he would have snapped at her, telling her to stop being so childish. But he didn't.

She remembered her first poker game. It was with her sister and Santana and Brittany. She was the only one who didn't know the rules to the game. And Frannie was so patient in guiding her and letting her win.

"It's called One Truth for the Other."

Now, she was betting.

" _Lucy sweetie, your father is your father. He wants what's best for you. Unless he's done something absolutely atrocious, you have to love him. And one day, when you're old enough and have enough sense, you can confront him, in a respectful way_ _though_ _. Because confronting a person is a way to show them you love them_ _._ _"_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet again, unedited.

" _I won!_ "  _Quinn squealed when she saw the cards laid out in front of her. She turned to her sister with a gleeful grin on her face, to which Frannie responded with a tender grin. "I won!"_

_Frannie tugged Quinn's head towards her gently and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, you did, Quinn."_

" _You only won because Frannie let you," Santana grumbled._

" _She did not!" Quinn said indignantly. "Did you, Frannie?"_

_Frannie shook her head and playfully glared at the Latina girl. "I wouldn't do that, Santana."_

" _Yeah, yeah_."

Once upon a time, when they didn't play poker with money but with sweets, Quinn used to think poker was fun. She got to win sweets and she got to gloat her victory with Santana. She used to love poker. She still did now, given that she'd improved immensely and she'd won quite some money at games with her friends.

Except now, she wasn't sure she loved it as much.

Her father eyeballed her. She tried not to squirm under his unrelenting gaze. "It doesn't sound like a game," he commented. She shrugged. He licked his lips and his gaze flickered away from her. He then nodded with a sigh. "Alright."

"How about you go first? Ask me a question," she offered.

He frowned and put his fingers to his lips as he contemplated. "Why this game?" he asked.

She licked her lips and ducked her head. "Seems like the only way to get you to answer  _my_ question." He nodded and gestured for her to go ahead. She leaned back in her chair. "Do you still hate me?" she asked timidly.

"Is that the question you mentioned?" Russell asked, slightly taken aback. She shook her head. His frown deepened as he contemplated her. "No, Quinn, I don't hate you. I've  _never_  hated you." She raised her brows as she looked at him in disbelief. He heaved a sigh and adjusted his sitting position. "I'm sorry, Quinn, if I gave you the impression that I hated you. I just wanted you to be better." He expressed a sad smile. "Except now I realize you're already perfect how you are."

She clenched her jaw, nodding in acceptance of his answer. "Your turn."

"Do  _you_ hate me?" he asked.

She looked up at him. He looked genuinely curious and slightly afraid. She considered lying but the point of this game was honesty. "I did." His face befell. "I used to. For like two years," she added. "But then I was just too tired of hating and I just stopped."

He sighed as if he'd accepted his flaws. And maybe he did. She wouldn't really know. She could never read her father.

"Why do you still keep my music books?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

She didn't know if she should smirk. In the end, the end of her lip curled up. "Come on, Dad, I saw them," she said softly.

"What else did you see?"

She held up a finger and eyed him. "It's my turn, remember?" He looked ready to protest. "Hey, you taught me to be fair in everything. You need to be fair too."

He rolled his eyes. "I missed hearing you play." He then nodded in the direction of the drawer he had hurriedly stashed her music books. "Whenever I look at them, it's like I can hear you playing in my head. But then, not once have you ever played with your –"

"Heart."

He paused and nodded. "Heart," he repeated. "You miss playing?"

"That your question?"

He considered it a moment before nodding. "Yep."

She stared at him for a long while. He didn't relent. This was perfect opportunity for her to tell him. She really should tell him. "I did." He tilted his head. "Missed it a lot." She took a deep breath and looked away from him, down at her lap. "I played again," she said, barely a whisper.

She waited for him to blow up, to demand why, to question her. She expected him to shout and scream and maybe even fling the table. She had to fight the laugh bubbling up in her because he was her  _father_  and she expected him to do such things.

What kind of twisted relationship did they have?

She peeked up from her eyelashes to see him staring at her, frozen but completely expectant. She then looked up completely, ready to take it. She'd taken so much already, what's more?

"I was wondering when you'd tell me," he said quietly. She frowned. Wait, what? He was wondering…what? "I saw you playing once, when we all went to bed. I came down to grab water and I saw you in the music room, playing the piano."

"Dad –"

He was staring at her, but he wasn't staring  _at_ her. He was seeing something else; something in his head. "It was the first time I've seen you play," he said, sounding so quiet and longing. "Like  _play_ , play." He tilted his head, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You weren't even looking at notes. You were just playing by heart. And you were…breathtaking." He came back to the land of living and looked at her again, his eyes moist. "You are  _my_ daughter, Quinn."

At that moment, the dam was already knocked down and she was crying. She wiped at her cheeks. Her throat was clogged up so much so that she couldn't even speak.

"I am very proud of you. I hope you know that."

"I do now," she whispered.

He nodded. "That's good enough for me." He tilted his head in her direction. "Your turn."

She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands to clear away to the tears. She briefly deliberated on how she should word her question. And then she realized there was no way of sugarcoating it.

"I saw the pills," she admitted. The way he halted in the twirling of his pen, the way he made an unrecognizable sound in his throat: they all indicated that she was right.

She wasn't surprised when he chose to hold her stare in the end. He pushed away from the back of his chair so he was sitting upright and he slowly put down the pen. He sucked his lips in and released them with a loud pop.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, sounding expectant and fearful.

His brows knitted slightly – just slightly. "I don't want to talk about this." His voice came out brittle and yet penetrating. She opened her mouth but he tilted his head a little and stared at like  _that_. "I don't want to talk about this," he said more sternly.

"Well, we are," she snapped, refusing to back down. His eyes went back to their normal sizes as he reacted in surprise. "This isn't something you just hide from your family, Dad. I'm your  _daughter_. So is Frannie! We deserve to know if you're  _sick_."

"Quinn, you won't be able to help even if you know," he said slowly.

"So you admit that you are, in fact, sick." He looked positively enraged that she was picking his words. "Are you, Dad?" she pursued.

He clenched his jaw and looked away. He ran his hand through his already balding head and put it down limply. "I had a heart attack when I was out with your mom," he said in a way so casual that it infuriated her. "Doctor says dilated cardiomyopathy." He looked back to her with a sardonic smile. "It's-"

"I know what it is," she interjected lowly, her eyes on her father as if she didn't know him at all. She analyzed the information in her head, going through the symptoms she'd learned. Her heart stuttered with each beat.

That time when her father didn't eat a thing during dinner (he claimed exhaustion at work), that time when he slept in all day because he felt dizzy (so dizzy that he couldn't even walk), that time when she saw him clutching his chest as he thought no one could see him; these images sped past her mind's eye. The symptoms were all there. She just wasn't there enough to see it.

She narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. "You're unbelievable," she exclaimed quietly.

His eyebrow twitched and he shrugged. "So you see, there's nothing you can do." He shrugged.

She wrapped her fists around the ends of her chair's handles so tightly that her whole hands were white and her blood vessels were visible. She gritted her teeth, grinding them to one another. She had no words. She literally had none.

"I think this is what they call karma." She leaped to her feet so fast that her chair toppled over. He stared up at her in shock. "Quinn?"

"How can you do this?" she shrieked. He started. She put pressure to her eye with the heel of her hand as she kept the scream in. She literally felt so suffocated and so betrayed that she just wanted to  _scream_. "You don't –" she spat and clenched her jaw. She grunted and looked away, facing the window. "A heart condition!"

"Calm down, Quinn."

Her head snapped to him. He was already on his feet, his hands held out in a calming gesture. "Calm down?" she reiterated, disbelief laced in her hiss. "Your heart," she motioned at his chest, "it could kill you!"

"I know."

"And I know you don't even have a  _pacemaker_  inserted because you're a stubborn ass!"

"I know that you know."

"I bet you're not even on the UNOS list."

"I'm not."

"The medicine can only help so long."

"I know."

Her eyes locked with his and the emotions swirling in those eyes that she'd inherited were appalling and nearly put her to the ground. She finally allowed the tears to come out. "You could die," she sobbed.

He clenched his hands into fists and navigated around the desk. When he stood directly in front of her, he whispered, "I know."

She looked up at him through blurred eyes. She rubbed at them aggressively and sniffled. "I hate you now," she claimed.

He smiled, a sad and yet delightful smile. They were both just encompassed of paradoxes. "I know."

And then she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head into his warmth and his smell and his  _everything_  and she wailed violently because he was her  _father_.

* * *

Apparently, in her shouting tirade with her father, she had attracted practically the attention of everyone in the house. And that meant  _everyone_ : Rachel, Frannie, her mother, Mercedes and Grandpa Fred. They all heard her and they had gathered at the study to see what the commotion was about.

So now, they were sitting at the dining table, joined by Mercedes and with the exception of Rachel. Quinn had promised that she would call the woman when she was ready.

"When exactly did it happen?" Grandpa Fred questioned.

Judy was wringing her fingers nervously and anxiously. "We were walking in a park near the hotel and he just…collapsed." She took Russell's hand in hers. "I was so scared."

Quinn looked across the table at Frannie, who had her eyes closed and her lips pursed so thin. "You don't just hide these things from your  _family_ , Dad. We're your  _family_ , for Pete's sake," she hissed, her voice shaky.

"I won't apologize for it," Russell stated with uninhibited pride. "I made a choice to not tell you. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. But I'm not sorry that I hid it from you."

To be honest, Quinn wasn't at all surprised. Her dear father had always let his pride get the best of him. It was one of his traits. She just exuded a hostile smile and kept her eyes on the mahogany surface of the dining table. She was tired. She had cried a waterfall just now and now she was just tired. She just wanted to go out to the backyard and talk to Rachel and then just go to sleep.

"When were you planning on telling us? Did you even  _plan_  to tell us? Would you have let us know if Quinn hadn't played that ridiculous truth game with you? Or were you waiting for when it's too late?" Grandpa Fred demanded, his voice increasing in volume with each question, his ears growing redder and redder.

"Dad," Judy said softly.

"No!" They all jumped, except Quinn and Russell, when the man slammed his fist against the table violently. Grandpa Fred stood up and leaned over, resting his palms on the table. "You are  _sick_ , Russell. It's dangerous. You can have an episode at any second and you never ever stopped to think about us. Let's forget about me and Mercedes. You  _never_  stopped to think about your children. What would happen to them if you're suddenly gone?"

"Fred," Russell started. "Thank you for your concern but how about we just let it go? You can't do anything, not even now when you know."

"Get a pacemaker."

"No."

"Why the hell not?" Frannie challenged.

Russell clenched his jaw. He looked away, refusing to answer.

Quinn chuckled. They all turned their heads to look at her, all probably thinking she'd gone nuts. For the first time since their confrontation, Quinn looked up with a mocking smile at her father and giggled again.

"What's so funny, Quinn?" Mercedes spoke for the first time, worry etching her features.

"I don't know how you don't see it," she giggled. She then gestured at her father salaciously. "The man's  _afraid_." At this moment, this had just confirmed her mother's assumption. She was so alike with her father that she  _knew_ why. Russell looked ready to retort. "Aren't you, Dad?" she challenged.

Russell's enraged face slowly dissolved into one of resignation, probably because he heard the resignation in her challenge. "Quinn," he said softly.

She stood up, her smile still on her face. She gazed down at her pale hands for a minute before looking to her father. "What you do with your heart is your choice, Dad. But I…" She sighed, unable to believe the words she was going to say. "I love you too much to see you practically leaving yourself to die because you're prejudiced and a coward. So here's what I'm telling you: as long as you don't do something to help yourself, don't ever talk to me."

The chair toppled over as she stalked away from the room, through the living room and out the front door. By the time she remembered that she'd forgotten her jacket and it was too damn cold outside, she didn't want to go back inside. She needed to be away. So she entered her car in a hurry and fished out her cell phone.

 _Meet at the trail? And please bring an extra jacket for me_.

She tossed her phone in the front passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway. She saw the front door opened and her father stepping out with an anxious look on his face but she chose to ignore him and proceeded to drive off. Her phone rang and she glanced at it to see that it was him calling. She took it and slid over the red icon, disconnecting the call, and replaced it on the seat.

She probably broke about two speed laws on her drive to the trail but she couldn't even give a shit right now. When she'd reached the trail in ten minutes, Rachel's car was already there. Rachel was leaning against the bumper, clad in a coat with a woolen jacket slung over her arm.

She leaped out of the car as soon as she's pulled over and wrapped her arms around Rachel without much hesitation. Rachel gave a small noise of protest but obliged in a second, wrapping her own arms around Quinn.

It was almost liberating: how she knew Rachel would always be at the end of the line for her.

* * *

"You shouldn't have done that."

Quinn hummed, refusing to open her eyes. She was on her back, her legs hanging off the edge of the cliff and one of Rachel's hands in hers on her stomach. Rachel was probably right, but she just wanted to be irrational right now.

"Quinn, come on." Rachel poked Quinn's stomach with her finger. Well, unfortunately for her, Quinn was not a ticklish person. "Seriously, you're not ticklish." It was more like a statement than a question, followed by a disbelieving scoff.

"Sucks for you," Quinn quipped with a smirk.

"Oh, she speaks," Rachel deadpanned. Quinn opened an eye to see Rachel looking down at her, unimpressed. "Your parents must be very worried about you right now." Quinn closed her eye again, denying Rachel an answer. Rachel moved Quinn's hand by moving her hand. "Quinn, you're being irrational right now."

"Rachel," Quinn whispered, "let me be irrational for once."

Rachel expelled an audible sigh. "And then what?"

The blonde stayed quiet. She was acting aloof, detached,  _irrational_. But really, she was contemplating Rachel's words and her actions.

_And then what?_

"I know you're thinking right now, stop acting dumb."

Quinn released a chuckle before she could stop herself. She opened her eyes with an inevitable grin as she looked up at the woman. Jesus Christ. "How long have you known me?"

Rachel did the math in her head. "Two months."

"And you already know me so well," Quinn stated. She shook her head and looked away, up at the sky above. "You're freaky."

"Well, I can't help that I'm so devoted to you the moment I saw you. You're like…magic."

Quinn snorted and rolled her eyes. "Don't be cheesy." She then squeezed Rachel's hand gently. "You ever told your dads about me?"

Rachel gazed upon her, surveying her. Quinn allowed her. "Don't change the subject, Quinn," Rachel commanded.

Quinn made a pleading face, licking her lips. "Please, Rachel. I just…I need this right now."

"But your parents –"

"Everybody says that I clash with my father so much because I resemble my dad  _too much_. I've inherited his temper, his characteristics, his intellect, his eyes, even his  _goddamn_  hair." Quinn paused, noticing that Rachel looked slightly confused. "My point is that out of all people,  _he_  would know that I just need time away to myself."

"Doesn't mean they're not worried about you," Rachel said.

Quinn grunted, slightly irritated. She let go of Rachel's hand and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes,  _hard_. The pressure was only slightly levitating. She abruptly pushed herself to sit upright, fishing out her phone. She ignored Rachel and started typing. When she'd sent it, she showed her phone to Rachel.

"There, I texted Frannie. She will tell my parents. Are you satisfied?" she said, verging on snap.

Quinn almost wanted to apologize as soon as she said it but she was prideful and irrational and damn it, she just wanted to talk to Rachel about things that are  _not_  about her father. She wanted to prove that her world did not revolve around that man. And Rachel was making it so hard for her.

Except, judging by the look on Rachel's face, she probably knew why Quinn was so oversensitive, because she looked almost pitiful but  _not_  pitiful. And she also nodded and offered a smile.

"To answer your question: no, they do not know about you," Rachel said easily, as if the last thirty seconds hadn't happened.

"Why?"

Rachel exhaled, chuckling humorlessly. "Why do you not tell yours about me?"

Quinn mirrored her chuckle. "Touché."

"They gave us a life…" Quinn drifted off.

"They never told us it would be easy," Rachel finished for her.

It was proven. Nobody knew Quinn better than Rachel. "I think you're the one," Quinn told her.

Rachel frowned and turned to her. "The one for what?"

Quinn smiled and leaned in to peck Rachel on her lips. "For me. I think you're the One for me."

Rachel imaged her smile, licking her lips as if to taste the aftertaste of Quinn. Quinn flushed red from seeing that. "Well, I'm  _sure_  you're the One for me."

* * *

True to her word, Quinn did not speak to her father at all since she came home at two in the morning. They were all sitting in the living room waiting for her, with the exception of Mercedes. Later that night, Frannie told her that Mercedes had made her promise to call when Quinn came back home.

Russell had tried to speak to her but she deliberately ignored him, facing the rest of her family, bidding them goodnight. And because she was so tired, she went directly to sleep without trouble. The next morning, during breakfast, she could feel her father staring at her from the head of the table. She could see the looks Grandpa Fred kept sending her, discouraging her from being so detached.

But Quinn was nothing if not stubborn – also, she wasn't going to relent until her father decided to save himself, damn it.

She finished breakfast five minutes before her father did. She said goodbye and then left, without waiting for him. As she stopped at the stoplight, her phone buzzed at the same time. It was Frannie.

_Don't you think you're being a little harsh?_

The light had turned green so she put her phone back into her purse, simultaneously driving off. At this point, she desperately needed coffee. So she stopped in front of Lima Bean and bought herself a cup of piping hot caffeinated drink.

 _He needs to know I mean business_.

"Miss Fabray." She looked up to see Miss Avery's disapproving eyes on her. Quinn smiled apologetically and put away her phone. "Thank you. As I was saying…"

* * *

So, being dragged – yes,  _dragged_  – to the docks wasn't what she expected when Santana told her there were someplace they needed to be. Santana basically pushed her onto her ass on the bench and planted herself on her left while Brittany sat on her right.

Finn and Puck were absent, oddly.

"What's going on?" Santana spouted off.

As much as Quinn wanted to pretend, she could never hide from Santana. So she took a deep breath and went on to talk about everything that had happened last night. When she was done, her head was laid on Brittany's shoulder and her heart was thumping.

"You played a game with him?" Santana flouted. Quinn nodded. "And he actually  _played_  it with you." Nod. "He didn't yell at you for being childish or anything?" Nod. "Wow."

Quinn blew out a sullen chuckle and lifted her head from Brittany's shoulder. "I know right."

"Quinn, why are you being mean to your dad?" Brittany said in a pitiful voice.

She sighed, slightly frustrated. "I'm not being mean on purpose. Look, Russell Fabray is a very stubborn man. I would know, because I  _am_  him."

"Okay, no," Santana cut her off, giving her a serious look. "You are  _not_ your father." Quinn rolled her eyes and sent her a disbelieving look, tilting her head for emphasis. "No, I will not hear you admitting that you  _are_  him. You are not. Russell Fabray is selfish, mean bastard who, I will very reluctantly admit, loves you very much. But you are  _not_ him."

"Santana –"

"So maybe you have his temper, maybe you have some of his attitude, his eyes, even his goddamn freaking hair. But there is nothing weird about that. You  _are_ his daughter after all. But other than those, you are nothing like him. So stop, okay? Stop saying you're him." Santana sounded so solemn that Quinn was speechless. "Promise me."

Quinn nodded dumbly. "I promise."

Santana nodded. "Good. Now go on."

Quinn swallowed and continued, "He needs to know I mean business. He's my father, for god's sake. I want him alive longer than however long the doctor's given him. I don't want him dead. I want him to be there when I graduate, when I go to Yale; I want him there on every important occasion in my life!"

"People are bound to die, Quinn," Brittany announced flippantly.

"I know!" Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just want him there more than less."

"And how is you giving him the cold arm helping?"

Quinn turned to the other blonde, confused for a moment. "She meant shoulder. Cold shoulder," Santana clarified with an affectionate smile.

"It was the only way I could think of that could convince him to get on the UNOS list or at least, get a pacemaker."

"What if he doesn't?"

Quinn stared at the Latina. "I honestly don't know," she whispered in the end.

The Latina eyed her for a few minutes before she looked away. That was her way of ending the current topic. "So during this game," she then said – see? – "did you tell him about Rachel?"

Quinn shook her head with a resolute "No."

"Do you intend on hiding it from him forever?"

"He has a heart condition, Santana. A pretty serious one. I don't think giving him another heart attack will do me any good."

"You just gotta know that you can't hide this from him forever if you actually intend to spend your life with Rachel."

"Why do you think I'm so yearning for a beer right now?"

" _Lucy Q, as long you have someone at the end of the line waiting to catch you, you have nothing to worry about_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo! tough ass Quinn!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, before you start reading, i just want you to know that Quinn will probably appear to be a bit too ooc and i did it on purpose. just keep reading and you'll find out why. and then again, unedited.

Miss Avery asked her to stay back as soon as the bell rang. Quinn obeyed and stayed in her seat, glaring down at her barely passing essay.

"At this point, everybody's gonna know I'm your favorite," she deadpanned.

The teacher raised her brow and eyed her from across the room. "Well, I think my favorite student wouldn't be happy with her barely above average essay."

Quinn offered a noncommittal shrug and stood up, shouldering her backpack. "SAT's over. Graduation's just around the corner. There's no point in these assignments anymore anyways," she said doggedly and made her way to the door.

"Quinn." She stopped, her hand wrapped around the door knob. "What's going on?" Profound concern laced in Miss Avery's voice.

The blonde closed her eyes, pulling in two deep breaths before she put on a smile and turned around to her teacher. "Everything's peachy," she said a little too delightedly for it to be true. And Miss Avery knew it, because she tilted her head and gave Quinn a  _seriously_  look. "Everything's peachy," Quinn tried again, her voice lower this time.

"If something's –"

"Miss Avery," Quinn snapped, and then she closed her eyes to calm herself down, "I have another class to get to."

Miss Avery eyed her for a long while before she released a defeated sigh. She threw up her hands. "Okay."

Quinn clenched her jaw. She hated disappointing Miss Avery in any way but she just couldn't do this right now. So she inclined her head, swinging the door open. "See you tomorrow, Miss Avery."

"Good luck on the final game Friday night."

She turned back to see Miss Avery smiling pleasantly at her. "Thank you."

* * *

Frannie knocked on the door to her room and came in. Quinn glanced up from her homework and then went back to solving algebra problems. She heard Frannie's frustrated sigh and ignored it, choosing to pride herself by finding  _x_ 's and  _y_ 's.

"SATs are over, Q. There's no need to be so hardworking now," Frannie said from behind her.

Quinn cocked her head, her gaze remained on her homework. "That's what I told you last year," she deadpanned.

Frannie chuckled, clearly remembering what she herself had told Quinn. She told Quinn that it didn't mean she couldn't put her foot forward during her last days at school. "You really gonna go as low as using my words against me?"

"That's a little exaggerating, don't you think?" Quinn exhaled a gasp of triumph when she found the answer. And then she moved onto the next problem.

Silence stretched its arms between them, almost wrapping them completely around the two sisters before Frannie jerked away. "Quinn, look at me." Quinn shook her head like a petulant child. " _Quinn_."

"Go away."

Frannie cursed lowly under her breath, in French. Quinn's lips curled slightly when she caught the end of the sentence. "At least go and shower before you do your homework. You freaking stink."

Quinn shrugged. "Well, it's a given since I just came back from practice. Besides, you can just do so well to escort yourself out of my room if I stink so much."

"You're being a bitch," Frannie flat out snapped.

Quinn flung her pencil across the desk and swiveled in her chair to glower at her sister. Frannie looked slightly prideful at managing to tick her nerves. "I learn from the best," Quinn stated.

Frannie's jaw dropped a little at that. And then she shook her head, rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers. "Rachel's waiting for you downstairs."

Quinn jerked in her seat a fraction, but otherwise she showed no reaction. Inside, she wanted to bolt from her room and drag Rachel out of this toxic infested house. She then calmly stood up, patted her pant legs and made a beeline for the door. But Frannie leaped from the bed and stood in front of her with lightning fast reflexes.

"Are you going to show your attitude to all of us for the rest of the day?"

Quinn shifted her weight her other feet and put her fingers to her lips as she made a contemplating face. "Let me see," she drew out as she looked skywards. She hummed for a few seconds before she lowered her hand and looked at Frannie with a smile. "Maybe even the rest of the week." She sidled past Frannie and past the door.

"Dad might deserve this but the rest of us don't!" Frannie exclaimed, loud enough for Quinn to hear.

Quinn closed her eyes as she clenched her hands into fists. Frannie was right. Quinn had woken up this morning with this energy within her that just morphed her into bitchy mode this morning and she  _didn't want_  to turn it off. She found it exhilarating and distracting. And she needed a whole lot of distraction.

And then she released an empty chuckle when she realized something. "What's so funny?" Frannie asked from behind.

Quinn licked her lips and shook her head to herself, still smiling like an idiot. "I'm channeling my inner Caroline Forbes."

"Yeah, you kind of are alike in some ways," Frannie commented drily. "For your information, switching off your humanity is not a healthy way of dealing with things."

"Who says I wanna be healthy?" Quinn said.

"Quinn, please."

Finally, she spun around to face her sister with that sickly smile still on her face. "You know what, let's make a deal."

"How about no?"

"You don't even know what deal I'm offering."

"I think you've watched too much  _Vampire Diaries_."

"Whatever," Quinn dismissed with a roll of her eyes. "It's not even gonna be a year."

"No."

Quinn ignored Frannie's refusal. She counted with her fingers. "So today's Tuesday," she offered. "Let me be a bitch until Friday. And then I'll just…stop distracting myself, I guess. Deal?"

"No deal."

Quinn's smile widened and brushed her hair back nonchalantly. "Guess what, I don't care." And then she turned back around and walked down the hallway to the staircase.

"Rachel won't like this."

"She  _will_  when my tongue's in her mouth." Quinn air saluted and sped down the stairs to the music room where she assumed Rachel was. And she was right. Rachel was sitting at the bench in front of the piano, playing some random children's tune. "Hey, stranger," she greeted delightedly as she closed the door behind her.

Rachel turned around, her face immediately morphing into one of concern when she saw Quinn. "Quinn, are you alright?" she asked, springing up from the bench and approaching Quinn quickly.

Quinn nodded with much vigor. "I'm peachy!" she said.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. She gently held Quinn's face in her hands as she studied the girl. "Quinn, did you take something?"

"No."

"You're worr-"

Quinn shut Rachel up by spinning her around and pushing her against the door. Rachel let out a low yelp of surprise and before she could react properly, Quinn surged forward and took her lips with her own. Quinn closed her eyes, letting the anger and frustration in her slowly change into passion and want.

She was in control of this. She  _needed_  the control to this.

Rachel lurched and moaned when one of Quinn's hands made its way up her thigh softly but intensely. She opened her mouth willingly and Quinn, without much ado, slithered her tongue in. Rachel wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist tightly while the other cupped the back of her head.

The blonde pressed in deeper, wanting to taste Rachel and wanting Rachel to take her away from all her thoughts to oblivion. She braced her forearm against the door by Rachel's head and drew away, pressing minor kisses on Rachel's cheek and then down to her neck.

"Quinn," Rachel gasped.

Quinn hummed in response.

Rachel bit back a cry when Quinn nipped on her earlobe. "Quinn," she insisted. "What is going on?"

Quinn breathed in Rachel's scent and rested her head softly on Rachel's shoulder, burying her nose into the nape of her neck. They stayed in that extremely suggestive position for several long minutes. "Please," she begged, her voice muffled by Rachel's skin.

"What?"

Quinn slithered an arm around Rachel's waist, tugging her closer, feeling instantly comforted by Rachel's warmth as they're pressed against one another.

"Quinn, I don't think this is a safe place to do this," Rachel said, sounding slightly pitiful.

Quinn knew. Making out and cuddling in the music room was just asking for it. Someone could barge in – namely her father – and hell would blow over. But, "Please just let me have this," she whispered, sounding adenoidal and unbelievably miserable.

She couldn't see her but she could imagine the understanding dawning across Rachel's face. She felt the woman trapped between her and the door relaxed, giving Quinn all the control of this whole thing. She was giving Quinn  _everything_  in this moment because at any moment, her entire life could be ruined.

Quinn choked up at the thought, at how Rachel was willing to risk everything just for the sake of her own childish and irrational needs.

"You got me, Quinn," Rachel said.

Quinn broke when Rachel pressed a loving kiss to her temple.

She once heard that a kiss could ruin a life.

This kiss built her up.

* * *

Quinn kept her word. She spent the next two days being a grade-A bitch. Honestly, she had no idea she had it in her. But once she did it, she found that she aced it.

She snapped at everyone. She ignored her father to the point where her mother had to tell her that if he'd become invisible to her – of course, she'd snapped at her mother too. She nearly got into a brawl with Santana for being mean to Brittany. But Puck had pulled the Latina back while Finn was quickly leading her away from them.

She was nearly out of earshot when she heard Brittany say, "This is her way of dealing. Let her be."

Miss Avery had known enough – probably from Rachel – to treat her like a normal student just like anybody else instead of a favorite student. She didn't try to talk to Quinn like a friend or offer her advice. She just assigned homework and graded homework.

Even Rachel was not immune to her entire bitchiness. Although she'd tone it down for the woman, but she'd manage to act like nothing but a horny teenager who just wanted to make out and not talk. Every time they met – at the cliff, in the goddamn  _backyard_  – Quinn would just grab her and kiss her like her life depended on it.

Rachel, like a saint that she was, had indulged in her irrationalism. It was possible that Frannie told her about the deal they had disagreeably agreed on because Rachel kept saying 'Until Friday' when they parted ways. She offered the leash and Quinn took it. They didn't go any further than making out, but at one point, they somehow managed to get each other topless.

And then Rachel had stopped her, tugging on the leash just a little.

"I'm not letting have our first time together happen this way," she said, determination in her eyes.

Friday morning, she woke up before the alarm did and she saw Frannie sitting in her chair at her desk. She was too groggy to be surprised so she just sat upright and they stared at each other.

"It's Friday," Frannie said. Quinn nodded. "Are you done now?" Quinn nodded again. "Well, firstly, you have to say  _sorry_ ," Frannie spoke as if she was speaking to a child.

Quinn sighed and her lips ticked upwards. "I'm sorry," she croaked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Frannie nodded. "Apology accepted." She then exuded a genuine and honest smile. She slowly crawled to the middle of the bed to sit cross-legged in front of Quinn. "You make a great bitch, by the way."

Quinn scoffed and smirked. "I know right," she boasted. "I could be a cliché head cheerleader if I want to."

"I'm glad you're not."

"Me too," she whispered.

"Are you gonna talk to Dad now?" Quinn shook her head, lips pursed. " _Quinn."_

"No, not unless he does one of the two things we are all asking him to," Quinn said.

"God, you two are going to give  _all of us_  simultaneous strokes eventually," Frannie complained, tilting forward to rest her head against Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn chuckled. "What do you want your headstone to say?"

"Died because she got tired of her father and sister being stubborn assholes."

Brittany had only smiled and hugged her when she apologized to her at school. Santana had rolled her eyes with a reluctant smirk and a playful punch to her arm. Her mother had put on that pitying smile she was so good at and accepted her apology gracefully. Mercedes had rolled her eyes and kicked her out to the dining room to eat breakfast. Russell, she treated the same as she did for the past week.

"Oh, so I can talk to you now?" Miss Avery said, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Quinn sighed and looked at the closed door of the classroom before looking back to her. "I know I've been acting weird. I'm sorry."

Miss Avery nodded. "So you're like  _you_  now? You're not…your version of Caroline Forbes?"

Quinn squinted at the woman, surprised for a second. "Rachel told you?"

"She told Jem. Jem told me," Miss Avery said.

Quinn scoffed. "Should've known," she muttered.

"She didn't say  _why_  though."

Quinn lifted her eyes and twitched her lips in an unsmiling manner. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Sure."

Quinn stood up then. "Thank you, though, for tolerating with my behavior for the last two days."

Miss Avery shrugged as if it was nothing. "So, tonight's the final game!" she exclaimed.

Quinn nodded as her grip on the strap of her backpack tightened. "Yep," she said curtly. She was anxious in a way she had never been before. Probably because this would be her  _actual_  final game and she just wanted to win it.

"Nervous?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, if it's any comfort, I think you're gonna win," Miss Avery said.

Quinn smiled gratefully. "Not really. But thank you though."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Because it was their final game, Coach had let them go home instead of practice and made them promise to be on time tonight. Quinn sat in her room, fiddling with a pen as she waited for Frannie and Rachel to be done in the music room.

"She's all yours," Frannie drawled with a smirk when she peeked her head into the room.

Quinn grinned, not even annoyed at Frannie's attempt to mock her. She sprang from the bed and shouldered past her sister to the staircase. She practically skipped down the stairs and headed into the music room.

Rachel looked up from the piano keys and stared at her carefully. "It's Friday," she declared. Quinn nodded. "Are you okay now?"

Quinn rested back against the door. "Well, my sudden switch of personality for the last three days wasn't actually an attempt to be okay, if you know what I mean." Rachel tilted her head in confusion. "It was a method of distraction."

"From?"

"Myself."

"Why?" Rachel asked, obviously mortified.

Quinn chewed her lower lip pensively before she sat down next to Rachel. "I'm so angry," she whispered weakly. "I'm scared too." She scratched her hairline and looked at Rachel. "It was turbulence inside me. Angry at my dad; scared for my dad. Angry at myself; scared for myself. Suddenly, everything was chaos, inside and outside. And I'm so tired."

"So you think that being someone else entirely  _not you_  can make you feel better?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn said with a shake of her head. "I know all too well that it's not gonna make me feel better. I told you, it's  _distraction_. And I got reprieve for three days."

"I don't think I have to tell you how unhealthy that just is." Quinn nodded. "Will you do it again?" Quinn frowned. "Hey, I plan to spend the rest of my life with you so I just wanna prepare myself for next time."

Quinn smiled and rested her elbow on the keys, creating a myriad of earsplitting tune. "The rest of your life?"

"Oh yeah, you're not getting rid of me any sooner."

Quinn giggled and bit her lip. "I plan to spend the rest of my life with you too."

"Granted I don't go to jail."

"This whole thing." Quinn wagged a finger wildly between them. "It's gonna be legal tomorrow."

Rachel's brows knitted for a moment before her mouth formed a small 'O'. "It is?" she whispered, a slow smile tugging on her lips.

Quinn nodded with a responsive grin. She winked. "Totally."

"Oh, thank God," Rachel breathed, completely relaxing and leaning against Quinn, planting her forehead on Quinn's collarbone.

"And I can't promise I won't do what I did for the last three days again in the future," Quinn said, inhaling Rachel's scent. "But I'll try to avoid it as much as possible." Rachel nodded against her collarbone, not bothering to pull back. "Rachel?" The brunette hummed. "Can you come to the final game tonight?"

Rachel lifted her head. She reached out to touch Quinn's cheek softly. "Of course I will."

Quinn's grin widened and she leaned in to kiss Rachel softly.

* * *

The bleachers were filled with spectators: students from the schools of both teams and their parents. McKinley students filled the right side of the bleachers while the opponent's filled the opposite. They were all wearing their respective school colors and waving banners and cheering them all on. Cheerleaders from both schools were shouting their motto loudly, leaping in the air like cannonballs.

Quinn watched from the sidelines, her hands were clammy from anxiety and nerves. She gulped when she saw her family – even her father was here – in the middle of the bleachers. Judy and Frannie were shouting inaudible words and waving custom WMHS flags. Grandpa Fred was standing next to them, wearing a red cap and adorning a red jacket, big smile on his face. Russell was sitting next to her mother, not joining in their cheers. But the look on his face was edging on encouraging and something along the lines of pride. He nodded at her when their eyes met.

She swore she wouldn't talk to him. But this…this one she  _had_  to respond to. So she nodded back and shared another moment of eye contact before she turned back around to face her team.

Santana was tying her hair up in a straight ponytail. Brittany was adjusting her cap. Quinn took a couple of deep breaths before approaching them, tugging on the brim of her cap. She sat down on the bench and retied her shoelaces, making sure they were neat and tight. Her phone buzzed when she was retying them again.

_I'm sure your shoelaces are good enough – R_

Quinn looked up from her phone and to the bleachers. It was hard to spot someone in particular among such a large crowd but she managed to spot Rachel at the front seats, joined by Miss Avery and her girlfriend. Rachel smiled at her with a light wave. Her phone buzzed again.

_Hey, batter, batter, hey, batter, batter, swing! ;) – R_

Quinn barked an unintentional laugh and received odd looks from some of her teammates.  _You're 29! – Q_

_I catch up with the trends. By the way, imagine yourself dancing when you're swinging the bat. I hear it do better with the angles. Not that I know a lot about baseball – R_

_I don't dance – Q_

_Baseball, dancing, same game – R_

Quinn smirked, rolling her eyes.  _Please stop quoting High School Musical – Q_

_Never – R_

"Fabray, put down that phone and get in the huddle!" Coach Beiste barked. She got in the huddle. And then Coach Beiste started talking, very loudly, about strategies and formations, telling each of them what they were supposed to do on the field. "Alright, I know some of you here are seniors and I say this every time, but get your asses out there and make this the best game of your high school life!"

They all leaped up in cheers and whoops, bumping fists and chests, uncaring to their audience and the weird looks they were probably getting.

Quinn put on her baseball mitt, and then her helmet. Before she could clip it on, she was turned around and Santana had clipped it for her. She smiled and gave her best friend a thumb up. Santana smiled and pushed down on her helmet twice.

"I see Rachel's here," she commented.

"Yeah, I invited her."

"Well, I think she'll be proud to know that you're  _both_ the leadoff hitter and the seventh hitter," she said with a smirk.

Quinn breathed heavily and licked her lips. "Don't remind me," she said gravely.

Santana chuckled and squeezed Quinn's shoulder. "You're gonna win this for us."

"Santana, please."

Just then, Brittany jumped onto her back, her helmet hitting into Quinn's helmet. Quinn grunted and stumbled forward a few steps from the sudden weight. And then Brittany appeared in front of her with a bright grin. Quinn laughed and rolled her shoulders.

"The Unholy Trinity: starting together, ending together," Santana said gently with a proud smile.

"God, that name is so old," Quinn complained goodheartedly.

They laughed. And then Coach Beiste was calling them out to the field. Quinn strolled towards the home plate. She shook the visiting team's batter's hand and then crouched behind the home plate, warily staying out of the bat's range. She noticed that the spectator's in the bleachers had hushed, all eyes focused on them. She rolled her shoulders back and adjusted her hand's position.

And then…the whistle was blown.

Brittany, the pitcher, tugged on the bill of her cap. Quinn had never seen Brittany looked so serious before. She kind of wanted her to go back to her cheery self for a second. Brittany then drew up her knee, putting her hands around the ball together, drawing back.

Quinn watched and assessed the angle she was going to take. And then she lifted her mitt just a fraction. The batter standing in front of her adjusted her position as well.

Quinn tightened her lips when Brittany pitched, the ball whizzing past the field. She watched the ball, ready to catch it. But the batter hit it first.

All hell broke loose.

The bleachers exploded with roars and cheers and curses. The cheerleaders started their routines again. She could hear coaches from both teams shouting their respective fielders to do this and that.

Quinn barely remembered what happened for the next hour and a half. They switched opposing and defense teams with each half inning. She started the first bat for her team and she scored a triple. She couldn't be more grateful for her stamina. When she was sitting in the sidelines, she had to admit she kind of enjoyed watching the players running after that miniscule ball.

Six to six innings. They were tied. She stood on the sidelines, holding the bat with such a tight grip that it hurt. She was sweating heavily under the helmet. She had her eyes closed. This next play would decide if they would win or lose. Whether she hit the third base would decide if they would win or lose.  _She_  would decide if they'd win or lose.

As if she could feel the magnetic pull and the call, she opened her eyes and turned her head just a bit to see Rachel standing there, staring at her with eyes filled with anxiety and encouragement.

Quinn zeroed in on the woman and isolated the rest, making her the sole occupant of the bleachers. Rachel had one hand in a fist and the other in a thumbs up motion. Quinn exhaled slowly, the world returning to her. She nodded and looked away.

Coach Beiste put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "If you land a homerun, you'll make history."

That would be true. No one in the McKinley baseball team had managed to score a homerun in ten years. Those words also made Quinn want to pee in her pants. Quinn swallowed and nodded tightly.

And then she swung the bat over her other shoulder and walked forwards, making a beeline to the home plate. Their side of the bleachers started shouting encouragements. She could hear Miss Avery, Frannie, some random boy, some random girls,  _Rachel._

" _I believe in you, Luce_!"

She froze in her steps and lifted her head abruptly, zeroing in on her family. Her father had his hand cupped around his lips. He lowered it and stuffed back into his coat pocket. He then nodded his head sternly. She clenched her jaw and told herself to  _not cry_  on the goddamn field.

For the first time in five years, her father had publicized his belief in her. And he looked proud.

She nodded back and stepped onto the home plate. She shook the visiting team's catcher's hand and positioned herself, swinging the bat in her air, just as she'd practiced over the year. She narrowed her eyes at the pitcher who was smirking like a meerkat and –  _was that chewing gum in her mouth?_

Okay, that's it.

Quinn was gonna take this bitch down so hard she wouldn't know what happened until it started hurting.

She channeled all her force into her arms and her concentration into her eyes. She listened as the whistle blew. She watched as the pitcher drew back. She kept her eyes on the ball. And then she swung. She felt impact. She heard silence. She watched the fucking ball.

The ball hit the foul pole.

 _Home run_.

" _Lucy Q, when you find a purpose in your life, and you know that it's_ _ **going**_ _to happen, you've practically scored a home run."_


	19. Chapter 19

Quinn Fabray made William McKinley High School history by scoring the first home run for the girls' baseball team in ten years. So yeah, a full-out celebration was guaranteed.

Everybody came and clapped her on the back with huge proud grins on their faces. She was thrown in the air almost ten times by her teammates when she received the trophy. She was surrounded by cheers and whoops and laughs and even tears.

Coach Beiste looked exceedingly proud. Mr. Figgins had pretended that he didn't mispronounce her name for the last four years and gave her coupons to Breadsticks – which she gave to Santana. Even Sue Sylvester, the renowned monster of a cheerleading coach had offered a strained smile with an even more strained congratulation.

Yet, among all these endless shower of congratulations and joy, she was more expectant of her family's reaction. She was starting to think that her father's energized yell across the field had just been a figment of her imagination and entirely  _not_  real. And she just wanted to see his face now to see if it wasn't.

Eventually, the throngs of joyful people surrounding her had dissipated. Santana made her promise she would come to her house later for the party before skipping away with Brittany. She giggled to herself and began to pack her things, hoisting her bat over her shoulder and her helmet under her armpit. Someone patted her shoulder just as she was turning around.

Rachel was standing there, flanked by Miss Avery and her girlfriend, Jemma. They all carried proud smiles upon their faces, even Jemma, whom she barely knew. Quinn grinned back at them and stepped forward to hug Rachel. It was the best she could do because they were in public and she could see her family on the bleachers.

"Congratulations," Rachel enunciated in her ear. Quinn fought the shudder that would often run in her body whenever she heard Rachel's voice. They drew back from each other. "I knew you could do it anyway."

Quinn laughed. "Thank you."

"Alright, stop being lovey dovey. It's disgusting," Miss Avery cut them off, not without an adoring smile on her face.

"Skye!" Jemma chastised her while slapping her on the stomach.

Miss Avery rubbed her stomach with her hand, an exaggerated pained expression on her face. "That hurt, Jem," she complained.

Quinn's grin widened as she witnessed the scene before her. "I'm pretty sure Rachel's already had her eyeful of you two being lovey dovey to last a lifetime now," she commented.

Rachel nodded vigorously to her comment and stared at her best friends indignantly. "That is correct. So I'm sure you guys can handle just a little bit of me and Quinn."

"Jemma, they're bullying me!"

Jemma scoffed and extracted herself from Skye's arm around her shoulders. "You deserved it," she said without mercy and then approached Quinn with a smile. She put her hands on Quinn's shoulders. "Congratulations on the win, Quinn."

"Thank you, Jemma."

Jemma didn't say anything. Quinn watched as the other woman's eyes ran across her face, like she was studying. It took her a few long seconds before Quinn started to feel creeped out. The British woman maybe much shorter but damn, she was intimidating. Her eyes widened and focused slightly as the seconds passed and she could literally feel herself standing straighter under the woman's watch.

She looked over Jemma's head to Miss Avery for help but could only see her teacher barely muffling her own laugh. She looked over Rachel and she nearly cursed when she saw her girlfriend just smiling in amusement. Guess she was all on her own now.

She didn't know how long had passed before Jemma smiled again and patted her shoulders gently. "You're good."

Quinn's face twisted into one of incredulity. "Huh?"

Miss Avery exploded into guffaws as she wrapped her arm back around Jemma. "We'll leave you two for now," she managed between giggles and led Jemma away.

Rachel shook her head in amusement as she watched her two friends walk away. "Those two are nuts," she breathed. Quinn hummed in agreement. Rachel turned back to her. "I really want to kiss you right now."

Quinn swallowed and clenched her thighs together. "Me too."

The brunette sighed and gave a helpless shrug. "Well, Skye's my ride so I gotta go." She sounded regretful and almost resentful. "I'll text you later, alright?"

Quinn adjusted the strap on her shoulder and nodded weakly. "Yeah, I've got a party to go to anyway."

Rachel started turning around to cross the field but before she did, she said, "I love you." She seemed satisfied when Quinn returned the sentiment and walked away.

Quinn was rooted to her spot for several seconds before she shook herself out of her reverie and crossed the field towards the school building. Her impatience with their current situation was to her limit but she really couldn't do anything about it. All she could do was tell herself that in three hours, she would be able to do with Rachel whatever she wanted. Just three hours.

Almost everyone had left for the party at Santana's place, save for a few. And they all congratulated her again when she entered the locker room. She thanked each of them before reaching her locker and started grabbing her stuff and went to the shower. She knew her family was waiting for her outside so she didn't linger in the locker room. When she was done, the locker room was already empty. She remembered to shut the lights before heading out.

Her family was huddled by the car in the parking lot when she came out. Frannie and her mother carried the brightest and proudest grins on their faces while Grandpa Fred was only smiling in pride and in amusement at his granddaughter and daughter's antics once they saw her. Her father was expressionless.

She was instantly engulfed in tight embraces – almost too tight – when she'd reached them. Frannie and Judy were shrieking in her ears so loudly that she couldn't make out what they were saying. She just laughed and hugged them back, nodding as if she understood a word. Grandpa Fred gave her knowing look before grabbing her into a bear hug. And then she was facing her father.

"Are you talking to me now?" he finally asked, almost harshly, but that was just him being him.

Quinn shrugged, cocking a patent brow at him.

Russell sighed. He rolled his eyes and reached into his coat pocket, slipping out a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Consider it your birthday present," he grunted. He came off sullen and grumpy, but the look in his eyes – like he was a kid pending a parent's approval – told her otherwise.

She took the paper from him, watching him carefully as she unfolded it. And then she lowered her gaze to read the content. The first thing she saw  _United Network for Organ Sharing_ as the letterhead. She held her breath as she continued reading. Words like  _Russell Elmer Fabray, suitable candidate, heart, list_  flitted past her mind in recognition and by the time she'd scanned the director's signature into her brain, she was trembling. To make sure she wasn't imagining things, she reread it, allowing the same words to make their ways into her brain. After what seemed like the fifth time, she finally lifted her gaze to her father who looked almost impatient and anticipating.

He lifted a shoulder and jerked his head towards the paper. "Well?" he grunted.

She could vaguely hear her mother clicking her tongue in disapproval. She didn't say anything though, just kept her eyes on her father.

Russell shifted in discomfort under her eyes and looked away in a flitting moment. "Quinn, I did this for  _you,_ for  _our family_. The least you could do is say 'okay'," he complained.

"Russell!" Judy gasped.

"What?" Russell retorted, indignant.

Quinn leaped forward and wrapped her arms around her father's neck like a vice, burying her face into his neck and breathing in his familiar fatherly scent, the one she used to smell when he would carry her upstairs to her bed or tuck her under his arm as he read her to sleep or giving her piggyback rides.

"I love you," she whispered in a thick voice.

She felt him lacing his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. She listened to his slightly labored breathing next to her ear. "I love you too," he whispered. "And I'm proud of you."

She sighed, unable to help the grin making its way across her face.

* * *

"Let's hear it for the legendary Lucy Quinn Fabray!" Santana hollered as soon as she stepped foot into the house, like she had a radar whenever Quinn was around or something.

All the heads turned to her and the quiet second instantly morphed into roars of pride and merriment. Quinn grinned at the warm welcome and felt the pride rise in her chest at the people around her, telling her how great she did and how anxious they were and they were so glad that she landed the first homerun in the ten year history of McKinley High. She laughed as Santana pretty much swore her way through the throngs of people, reaching her with two red solo cups in her hands.

"Oh no," she said with a nervous laugh.

Santana grinned, biting her bottom lip and waggling her brows, as she handed a cup to Quinn. "Come on, Q, you deserve a drink," she drawled.

"Santana, I'm driving myself home later," Quinn said, even though she took the cup from her best friend anyway.

Santana rolled her eyes with a shrug. "You can crash here. It's not like you haven't done it before."

Quinn looked down at the clear liquid filling the cup and was suspicious. "This isn't wine cooler, is it?" she asked rhetorically. Santana's grin only widened. Quinn sighed. She could feel everyone watching her. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, screw it." She put the cup to her lips and downed the alcohol in one go. The tangy and bitter taste overwhelmed her taste bud and burned its way down her tender throat. "Jesus fucking Christ," she blurted out hoarsely.

Santana burst out in guffaws and raised her cup high in the air. "Happy birthday, Quinn Fabray!"

The rest of the room hollered again and the music turned back on, booming the latest hit as everyone danced to it. Quinn dropped the cup and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "It's not even my birthday yet," she said to Santana as she followed her best friend to the back of the room where Brittany, Puck and Finn were.

Santana gave a dismissing wave. "It will be in two hours," she drawled. Quinn watched as she leaned down to kiss Brittany who was seated on the couch. "Hey, babe."

"Oh jeez," Quinn whispered to herself when it escalated into a total make-out session. She briefly looked at Puck and saw that he was grinning with glee. Typical. "Knock it off!"

Santana and Brittany retreated gradually, as if they hadn't been doing something entirely not for children's eyes. The Latina settled herself in Brittany's lap and smirked at Quinn. "What, are you jealous?"

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. She was playing nonchalance but Santana was actually right. She wished Rachel was here.

"Hey, I'm up for it if you are," Puck offered without shame. Quinn feigned puking and his face fell. Finn laughed and just clinked his bottle of beer to Puck's. "What's so wrong with me?"

"Well, first, you have shit for brains. Quinn doesn't like that," Santana started with a sage expression. "Next, you're the resident man whore. Quinn won't settle for you. Third – this one really isn't your fault, Quinn just has a weird fetish – you're her age." Puck seemed a little slow in trying to understand the last one. So was Finn. When five minutes passed and they still had that constipated confused look on their face, Santana just went ahead and said, "She likes older people."

Puck and Finn's face lighted up and they looked at a blushing Quinn as if they were seeing her in a new light. "Bravo!" Puck cheered, lifting his bottle up at her. Quinn swatted it away flimsily. "Didn't know you have it in you, Q."

"Shut up, Puckerman," she snapped.

"Well, since you're gonna be of age of consent tomorrow, I think there's nothing you have to worry about."

Quinn pursed her lips and gave a half-hearted shrug. "You don't know the half of it."

She said it in as low her voice as possible but Puck still heard it. "What the hell does that mean?" Quinn played with her fingers and refused to look at him. "Oh my god, did you get your cherry popped?"

She clenched her jaws and swung her fist at Puck, punching him in the arm with as much force as she could. She knew she would regret it tomorrow, what with the batting and the catching of the ball. She was bound to end up with a sore arm tomorrow. But seeing the tortured look on his face was satisfaction enough.

"Serves you right," Santana drawled as she lifted her cup to her lips.

"I  _didn't_ get my cherry popped, Puck. I do have some integrity left, thank you very much," she gritted between clenched jaws. "I met someone, okay?"

"Who is she?" Finn asked, an expectant and innocent look on his face.

"Frannie's brand new piano tutor," Santana answered for her. "Well, not so brand new since the woman's been around for like months already."

"Holy crap, she's a  _cougar_?" Puck spluttered.

"Puck, I'm warning you." Quinn glared at the Mohawk boy. He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It's a long story," she offered Finn.

"Well, is she nice?" he asked. "I mean, she  _has_  to be nice or you're no good being with her."

She smiled at Finn. The boy may be slow on the uptake but he was very sweet too. That was what she loved about it. And the fact that he was so accepting of everything despite his crush on her was all the more lovable.

"Oh, she's very nice. Quinn is totally smitten with her," Santana interrupted, winking at Quinn.

"She got a name?" Puck asked.

Quinn frowned and looked at them. "Don't you think I deserve a seat if I'm gonna tell you these things?"

Finn sat himself on the arm of the couch and gestured at the empty seat he'd just occupied. Quinn murmured a thanks at him as she sat down. "Her name is Rachel. She's my sister's new piano tutor since Mr. Ryerson died of a heart attack. God rest his soul."

"Oh no, that guy was a total beast. He used to teach my brother and my brother went running to my mom, crying that Ryerson made him play  _Chopin_ on their second lesson," Santana complained mercilessly.

" _God rest his soul,_ " Quinn enunciated pointedly. Santana huffed. "Anyway, so my parents hired her. You guys know how I used to play and then I just stopped playing?"

"Yeah, because of your grandmother," Finn uttered. Quinn looked up at him in surprise. "I remembered."

The blonde laughed in amazement. And then she proceeded to tell them the things that had happened, in short. She decided to omit the date and the freak-out incident at her place and Miss Avery's involvement.

"And now I'm her girlfriend," she finished.

"You know, your story would make a really good ABC drama," Santana suggested.

"Why would they make a good children drama?" Brittany asked.

"It's just a TV network, Britt."

"There are  _spiders_  in the TV?" Brittany gasped.

Puck laughed and shook his head. "Well, I don't care about spiders in TV. If you're happy with this Rachel, Quinn, then I'm happy for you."

"Am I going deaf or are you being nice and mature?" Quinn teased.

"Don't test me, Fabray."

Quinn laughed and clicked her red solo cup which was obviously filled with vodka against Puck's. Together, they swallowed the liquid in one go. Puck and Finn burst into boisterous guffaws when Quinn scrunched her face up and coughed relentlessly, leaning forward in one swift move. Brittany was patting on her back gently, soothing her esophagus.

"You're such a lightweight," Santana teased with a good-natured smile.

Quinn wiped her wet lips with the back of her sleeve and glared at Santana. "Shut up."

"Did you and this Rachel chick do the do yet?" Puck asked, eager like a puppy.

Quinn's brows concentrated into a crease and she smacked Puck in the abdomen. Puck  _oof_ -ed and widened his eyes. Quinn grinned and stared at her hand proudly. "I'm so glad I'm an excellent batter."

* * *

_Where are you? – R_

Quinn squinted as she held her phone above her. She looked to her left, where Santana and Brittany were cuddled up. She still had no idea how they managed to wrangle her into sleeping in the same bed with them. She sneaked out of bed and went out into the hallway.

_Santana's place. – Q_

She looked around her and did a double take at the state of the hallway. It was littered with red solo cups and empty bottles and tissues and  _Jesus, why the hell were there_ _ **dildos**_ _?_ She brushed her hair back and tiptoed to the staircase, trying to not step on the garbage.

_Can you come out? – R_

_Rachel, it's one in the morning – Q_

Quinn was already searching for her jacket. She remembered discarding it somewhere between her third and fourth drink but now, under the mass of uninvited sleepovers and mountains of trash, she probably wouldn't be able to find it anyway. She sighed and picked up her car keys – which were luckily in her purse which she remembered clearly was stored in the closet.

_Can you come out, then? – R_

_Where do you want to meet? – Q_

_The trail :D – R_

_Bring me a jacket – Q_

She climbed into her car and shook her head with a smirk as she saw the state of the yard. Santana was going to have a field day with cleaning up  _and_  her parents tomorrow. She twisted the keys in the slot and the engine rumbled into life. Within seconds, she was already on her way to the trail.

Since it was middle of the night and most of the town was asleep, the streets were empty and traffic-free so she managed to reach the trail in ten minutes. She fished out a flashlight and her taser – one can never be too safe, her father had taught her - from the glove compartment before getting out.

"What the…" she drifted off when she was confronted with the scene before her.

Rachel whirled around with wide eyes and instantly grinned in delight when she saw Quinn. "Happy birthday, Quinn!"

Quinn blinked rapidly. "How did you do this?" she asked quietly, switching off the flashlight.

Rachel approached her and took her hands with hers. "Well, I actually prepared all these yesterday at the last minute. Skye and Jemma helped me out a little. They actually just left like twenty minutes ago."

The brunette had set up a small, round table a few feet away from the edge of the cliff, with chairs on opposite sides at the table. There was a vase of gardenias on the table, joined with a candle stand where three candles were lit and set up. And then there were peanut butter sandwiches in front of the chairs.

"Do you like it?" Rachel asked quietly when Quinn didn't say anything for a few moments.

Quinn took her time taking everything in and in the end, she managed a breathless laugh. "I just…" She shook her head and averted her eyes away from the table and to the woman in front of her. "Rachel, this is…"

"You know, I'm really not sure if I should take this speechlessness of yours as a good thing or a bad thing," Rachel remarked, worrying her lower lip.

"Good," Quinn hurried. Rachel's eyebrows rose and a reluctant smile emerged on her face. "I just…This is really something else." She motioned at the set up. " _You_ are something else."

"Just for you, Quinn," Rachel whispered and leaned up to kiss Quinn which she didn't hesitate to meet in the middle. "I didn't even do anything like this for my ex-husband."

"No?" Quinn smirked.

Rachel giggled and tugged on Quinn's hand to lead her towards the table. "No," she confirmed. She let go of Quinn's hand to pull out a chair. "Have a seat, fair lady."

Quinn's smile widened. "Thank you," she said abashedly as she sat down.

Rachel rounded the table and sat down opposite Quinn. "I know this isn't like those candlelit dinners at those fancy restaurants and I don't think it's really time for dinner anyway." Quinn laughed and nodded in agreement. "This is the best I can come up with in the nick of time."

"Rachel," Quinn said and placed her hand on top of Rachel's, "I love all of this. And I love you. It's more than enough."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I guess I didn't get cursed at by Skye for nothing." Quinn burst out laughing again. "I think she mentioned the statue of Jesus somewhere up my you-know-where for disturbing her late night cuddles with Jemma."

"She did not," Quinn gasped.

"Oh, she did," Rachel confirmed with a poker face. "Don't let her English teacher façade trick you, Quinn. That woman has the mouth of a sailor. And she has a very huge sexual appetite." She picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "Anyway, Quinn, happy 18th birthday and I love you."

Quinn grinned and started to eat her sandwich too. "Thank you, Rachel."

When they were done eating, Rachel took the table cloth and laid it on the ground. It was big enough for both of them. She folded the table and chairs and put it aside, then she settled next to Quinn as they watched the nightlife, or lack thereof, of Lima, Ohio.

"I've never seen Lima like this before," Quinn confessed in a whisper, marveling at the quietness and peace. "It's nice."

Rachel hummed and rested her temple on Quinn's shoulder. "It  _is_ nice."

Quinn pulled away and turned to see Rachel. "I love you," she whispered.

She leaned forward to kiss the woman before she could return the sentiment. Her hand reached up to cup Rachel's face while Rachel put a hand on her hip, as if to balance her. She didn't know how long they kept kissing until she pushed Rachel down onto her back and leaned over her to kiss her better. And then  _she_  was on  _her_  back with Rachel over her.

Rachel was kissing down her earlobe to her neck when Quinn managed to say, "I'm ready." The woman froze above her and Quinn whined in complain. Rachel drew back to look down at her like she wasn't sure she heard Quinn correctly. "I'm ready," she repeated.

"You – are you sure?" Rachel stuttered. She seemed simultaneously worried and elated to hear that from Quinn. "You don't have to if you're not –"

Quinn laughed and extended her arm upwards to hold Rachel's face. "Rachel, please," she said, "you've been so patient and gentle with me all this time. I'm  _ready_."

Quinn gazed up into Rachel's eyes and watched as different emotions swirled through her vision. Rachel then smiled a tender smile. "I love you so much," she whispered, her voice shaking. She reached up to touch Quinn's face with her fingers, just softly and kindly and with so much love. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

And well, Quinn was human. She couldn't  _not_  melt right into Rachel's arms when she said things like that. It just wasn't possible. "Kiss me," she demanded. She  _needed_  Rachel to kiss her right now.

* * *

Quinn felt her focus waver. The membrane of their spot – the cliff – and the menacing darkness gave way to a shocking new level of awareness. She was on her back, straddled by Rachel; in Rachel's arms, skin to skin.

The cold night air had somehow raised its temperature, engulfing them in a torturous yet sweet inferno. And every part of the skin she touched felt naked. She bit back a gasp when their breasts touched. Correction:  _was_ naked. She took in the smooth, firm, tan hide sheathing tone muscle with blurry vision. She felt the drool building up under her tongue.

This was her first time doing this and she didn't know how to move. She was  _scared_ to move. Hence, she didn't move.

But  _Rachel_  was moving  _her_. Softly, imperceptibly, Rachel's long dark locks tickled her cheek as the woman lowered her lips to Quinn's ear, gently taking her earlobe between her teeth. "Don't be afraid, Quinn," she spoke delicately, like Quinn was a piece of fragile china. She sounded drained and spirited at the same time. Quinn wondered if this was the effect she had on Rachel.

Quinn whimpered when Rachel's thigh knocked against her panty-clad crotch soothingly. She could feel the sticky liquid building up, ruining the cotton of her panties. She unwittingly tightened one arm around Rachel's shoulder and another around Rachel's waist. The brunette gently pried away her clinging limbs and held them above Quinn's head.

"Rachel, wh-"

But Rachel's lips came down on hers, stilling them with a touch that began feather light, but deepened in intensity with harmony to the sudden quickening of her heartbeat. Her entire body was on fire, her heartbeat was trying to beat right out of her ribcage, and she had no care because Rachel was kissing her like there was no tomorrow and rocking her thigh against Quinn slowly.

Her blood pulsed,  _pumped_ , violently through her vessels and Rachel moved her with her thigh, sending her through endless throes of ecstasy. She might as well be high off something because her brain was a mush of diversified thoughts, her heart was just on the edge of tearing out of her chest and her limbs were completely useless.

One moan came out louder and heavier than the former. The itch was just about to be gone and she clenched her hands into fists above her head. She wanted to hold Rachel when it happened but the woman had found this unknown strength – or maybe it was just her becoming an utter jelly – that she couldn't move at all. Rachel rocked – pushed – and rocked – and pushed – until Quinn was right there at the edge, ready to fall into a pit of divinity.

And then she stopped.

Quinn gasped in pity as she opened her eyes to look up at Rachel. She almost yelled at Rachel for stopping, but she stopped in the middle of forming the word.

She shut her mouth and hissed through her nostrils, because Rachel's fingers were right  _there_. Rachel hovered over her, their breaths mingling together and their lips feather light touching one another. Quinn could literally feel Rachel swallow and tremble atop her.

"Are you nervous?" she asked. Should she even be asking this? She herself was just right on the edge of exploding from nervous energy, but she wasn't the least bit scared.

Rachel released a short laugh that sounded helpless. "It's  _you_ ," she said, simple and short but gosh, Quinn nearly broke down in tears at the passion and elation laced in those words.

"Don't worry, Rach." Rachel's eyes softened at the nickname. Quinn somehow found some energy to use her arm and lowered them so she could touch Rachel's face, entangling her fingers with Rachel's sweaty hair. "I'll be fine. Trust me."

She did. Quinn was so ready for her that the pain she'd expected hadn't happened. Instead, it was just an intense shockwave joy that almost had her echo into the night air if it hadn't been for Rachel's lips on hers. If the world had ended at that moment, Quinn wouldn't have cared.

Quinn couldn't help but marvel at Rachel's dexterity and moved her hips along with Rachel's fingers at the same time. Rachel, as if knowing what Quinn needed even when she didn't know it herself, purposely lowered her body again so they would be pressed against one another at every angle. Quinn sighed and groaned – don't ask how she did that – and buried her face in the crook of Rachel's neck.

" _Fuck_ ," she whimpered as Rachel touched that tender spot inside her, eliciting a series of mini fireworks through her nerves.

Rachel pecked Quinn's cheek as she, again and again, thrust her fingers in and out of her core – in, slow; out, swift – in a perfect rhythmic combination. Rachel was building her up and taking her down. Quinn could imagine herself floating in an ocean, Rachel was the ocean, the waves were beating her gently, taking her to shore. Rachel was taking her to shore.

Quinn widened her legs and locked them behind Rachel's thighs while Rachel's free hand traversed up Quinn's arm and entangled their fingers together. Quinn instantly gripped onto Rachel's hand firmly as she begged her to just take her because she was  _so_ close.

And then…there it was. No crashing waves; no ripples of ecstasy. A violent pleasure tore through Quinn, a whiplash at Quinn's center that bloomed and radiated through her belly and chest. Fire licked at her skin and burned her cells and she wanted more. She felt the flash of heat, repeatedly, as Rachel continued to press against the same spot, and she could not stop the noise rising in her throat from escaping as she dissolved into Rachel's hand.

The earlier greyed edges of her vision had blackened as she came down, sweating and panting. The darkness increased in intensity, taking more of the color from her vision. And then she went to a satisfied state of slumber.

_"Quinn, love is a powerful, powerful thing. When you're in love one day in the future, don't be afraid, because it is one of the best things in the world."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, they did it at the trail. ew, right?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big things happen this chapter. just be patient and nice.

" _If you're lost, you can look and you will find me time after time. If you fall, I'll catch you. I'll be waiting time after time_."

The soft hymns of the Cyndi Lauper classic floated into Quinn's ears, tickling her eardrums and waking her gently. Cold was one of the factors of her waking up; the fragile chill of daybreak. Instinctively, she snuggled into the warm body she was swathed in, feeling Rachel's strong arms gather her close. As she moved, she felt the raw tenderness between her thighs and the sticky wetness there. She opened her eyes.

Rachel's face was millimeters away from her own. Too close to focus on, blurry, smooth and bronzed. She could see that Rachel's eyes were open though and she vaguely realized that the woman was the source of the singing just seconds ago. Their noses bumped. Quinn could feel herself beginning to smile. She drew back a few inches so she could get Rachel's face into focus. Rachel was smiling in that tender way of hers.

And she was dressed. Quinn looked down to find herself still stark naked, but with a thin blanket draped over her. She looked back up with a smirk that Rachel returned unashamedly.

"I see you know how to appreciate a view," Quinn croaked, drowsiness still laced in her voice.

Rachel drew Quinn back into the confines of her arms, pulling her head under her chin. "Only with the things I find breathtaking," she said. Quinn hummed; eyelids drooping close as she let herself drift. "You can't go to sleep." Rachel sounded regretful. "I need to bring you home."

Without giving it much thought, Quinn said, "This is home." Her heart spasmed in her chest and she opened herself. She didn't pull away; she just let herself contemplate her words as she laid here. And then she smiled. "This is home," she confirmed.

Rachel placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Quinn could hear the 'I love you' in that one kiss. "Well, let's go back to our other homes," she whispered.

* * *

She had Rachel drop her off at Santana's front door. It was half past six so it was basically too early for them all to be awake.

"They know I'm at Santana's for the after-party, so it's natural for me to be home later than now," Quinn explained. "Don't want them to be suspicious of anything."

Rachel smirked and scoffed. "You are quite the planner, aren't you?"

Quinn winked with a cheeky grin. "I'm not your typical bottle blonde," she bragged.

And then she was pushed back against the door with Rachel over her, one hand on her hip and the other on her arm. Rachel was smirking, face just inches away from hers. "That's what I love about you," she whispered, husky and low.

"Just that?" Quinn teased with a smirk of her own.

Rachel hummed, feigning contemplation as her pupils rose. And then she met Quinn's eyes again with a shrug. "Pretty much."

Quinn bit her lip momentarily as she reached up to pull Rachel's mouth to hers. They claimed each other in an instant ferocious kiss. With one quick thrust, Rachel's tongue broke through the seams of her lips to travel beyond.

Quinn moaned deep in her throat. She hung on and gave it all back. Ravenous for Rachel's touch, she got drunk Rachel's cinnamon scent and taste, reveled in the soft length of Rachel's body as animal heat rose between them and pushed them over the edge.

She expected to be the one in control. She expected the woman she was kissing to be surprised and unknown of what to do. Instead, she got an immediate retaliation that was hasty and heated and completely far out of every bit of Quinn's expectations. She got warm lips melded over hers. Rachel's teeth nipped. Rachel's tongue burrowed and plunged with revised command, pressing Quinn against her to take every last drop of her resolve.

Rachel slipped her hand into the weight of Quinn's hair to hold her head still as she continued her passionate invasion. Quinn's breasts grew heavy and full, and liquid heat pulsed through her thighs at a rapid pace.

A loud knock against the glass of the window made them jump. Rachel ripped her mouth from Quinn's. Dazed, Quinn couldn't look away from those luscious lips that were pressed against hers just a millisecond ago. Rachel looked mutually dazed and unfocused. Quinn breathed hard and gathered her nervous state as she gulped and slowly turned, ready to attack whoever it was that interrupted them.

She staggered into an upright sitting position when she saw who it was standing outside, looking absolutely outraged and dubious.

"Oh god," she whispered, quiet but loud enough for Rachel who recognized the person who'd caught them. "I-I need to-" She looked away and to Rachel. "I'll handle him. You need to go."

"What? No!" Rachel protested. "I'm not leaving you alone to deal with this!"

"Rachel, you  _need_ to go! I'll call you!" she insisted.

"No!"

Quinn groaned. She jumped again when a louder and more ferocious knock clattered against the window. She threw Rachel an exasperated look before climbing out of the car and slamming the door closed.

"I can explain-"

"How do you explain something like this?" Russell gritted between clenched jaws, forefinger thrust in the direction of the car. His nostrils were flaring and the vein in his forehead was throbbing.

"Dad-"

"Mr. Fabray, please hear us out," Rachel pleaded as she climbed out of the car as well.

Quinn winced when his head whipped around so fast that it was a wonder how his neck didn't snap. "Explain?" Russell reiterated in a toxic tone. "You were contaminating my daughter, was the explanation!"

"Dad, it's not like that."

"Do not speak right now!" He glared back at her, his voice rising with each syllable. Quinn noticed his chest heaving more than usual and she swallowed.

"Dad, can we please not do this here?" she whispered, afraid for him and for herself. "Please."

Russell jerked, as if he wanted to lunge. Quinn winced while Rachel gasped audibly. He regained his footing as he directed his glare between them both. "You two are coming with me," he seethed in a low, dangerous voice. They quickly nodded in agreement. "You're gonna drive your own cars and we're gonna meet at the house." They nodded again. He glowered at his daughter, his mouth pursed tightly. And then he pivoted on his heel and stalked towards his car.

Quinn stood in place for a second before she was jerked back to reality. She passed an apologetic look to Rachel before heading to her own vehicle and quickly following her father's car along the roads. She briefly glanced in the rearview mirror to see Rachel behind her.

The entire drive there, Quinn kept her fingers wrapped around the steering wheel tightly. Usually, she drove one-handedly but now, she had to keep her hands on the wheel to keep them from shaking tremendously. Her entire being was vibrating with nervous energy. She was wracking her brain for the right choice of words when they faced him later. She was hoping that she'd been more careful. She scolded herself for not noticing his car when they reached Santana's house just now.

Russell slammed his car door so hard that it literally shook. And then he passed a freezing look that she shuddered in her spot before she heard a car door slammed shut behind her. Rachel was standing there, hesitant. Quinn sighed and took a deep breath before jerking her head towards the house before making her way up the driveway.

He was, predictably, seething in his study. She could almost see him vibrate. His study was his castle. There was a certain aura in his study that was both intimidating and fearsome, which intensified with him sitting there like that.

Rachel closed the door before moving to stand beside Quinn in front of him. He almost blanched at the sight of them next to each other. She watched as his nostrils flared and his maddening eyes traveled between them. His mouth was shut tight and he was taking angry deep breaths. Momentarily, Quinn worried for his heart.

"Mr. Fabray, it's not Quinn's fault." Both of them turned to look at the brunette, one in anger and one in surprise. "This is entirely on me." Quinn's mouth opened but not a single noise emerged. She was far too shocked. Rachel didn't look at her for even a moment, stubbornly staring back at Russell. "If you wanna blame someone, just blame it on me."

"You're damn right I blame you," he hissed, making a sound for the first time in the past twenty minutes. "I'm inclined to believe you, Miss Berry, but it takes two to tango."

For a brief second, Quinn almost wanted to laugh because did her father just make a pun? But then she realized the severity of the situation and she kept mum about it.

"How long has this been happening?" he questioned.

"Less than two months," Quinn replied, as if that would help.

He pinned her with his gaze. She could feel her hairs erecting on her skin under his piercing eyes. "So basically, more than one month," he deduced.

She closed her mouth, refraining from gulping. She could see Rachel nodding from her peripheral vision.

Quinn paid attention to her father as he closed his eyes, leaned his head down to support his forehead with his fist, his elbow rested on the arm of his chair. He was barely keeping his cool and she couldn't really blame him. He didn't expect this all when he hired Rachel in the first place.

After around five minutes that felt like years, he lifted his head and looked at Rachel. "I can have you arrested," he said, his voice calm and quiet.

Quinn turned to Rachel, slightly panicked. But the brunette only nodded. "I know, sir." Rachel was standing straight, her hands behind her back, her face a perfect image of calm. She appeared collected. But Quinn knew her better. She noticed the way Rachel's hands were clasped so tight that they were white. She noticed the way her ears burned red. She noticed the sweat gathering on Rachel's scalp. Rachel was anxious.

"You can't arrest her actually," Quinn blurted before she could stop herself. Russell looked at her, his eyes a whole new mix of storm brewing. "I'm eighteen, Dad, which means legal."

"That doesn't mean she didn't do things before you were eighteen," he snapped.

"You can't prove it," she answered just as quickly. Russell closed his mouth, glaring at her again. "Dad, it doesn't matter what you tell the cops, but I will deny and deny and  _deny_  every single thing you accuse her of."

"How dare you-"

"Dad," she interrupted as firmly but also as softly as she could manage. She took a brave step forward and looked her father in the eyes. "Please."

"She's twelve years older than you!" he almost squeaked when he spoke the number.

"I love her," she whispered, sounding raw and genuine. "Dad, I love Rachel." Her lower lip began to tremble as her eyes watered when she saw the dawning in his eyes.

"You don't know anything about love," he said. Of course, even when he realized this thing between her and Rachel, he was still stubborn as fuck. "You're far too young to know anything about love."

"It's not like you know a lot about it either," she said. Then she closed her eyes, instantly regretting what she just said. When she opened them, Russell was staring at her in confusion and a little disbelief. She knew she had to keep going. "You haven't shown any emotions that remotely resemble fatherly love ever since I've started playing and you realized the potential in me. You were harsh and strict and cold. You took the joy out of playing. You forced me to be a child prodigy when I just wanted to be a child. You even had the galls to lie to me about grandmother until it was too late!"

"I didn't lie to you!"

"Omission is a form of lie!" she retaliated, her voice shaking with frustration. "You  _knew_  how close to Grammy I was. You  _knew_  how much I loved her! And you didn't even bother telling me that she was on her deathbed because you wanted to me to win in a stupid competition! I didn't get to say goodbye to her because of  _you_!" She thrust a finger in his face. His face was stone cold and emotionless. She should have figured. "And then when I have had enough and decided to do something for myself for once, you called me a self-entitled brat."

"Oh, for the love of-"

"For almost my entire life, you haven't been a  _dad_  to me at all. You were just a father who put the clothes on my back and the food in my plate and the roof over my head. Nothing else. Whenever we spent time together, you  _always_  find a way to make jabs at me for giving up and being a loser." She was out of breath at the end. She closed her eyes when she felt a gentle hand on her back. She didn't have to look to know it was Rachel. "You know, Dad, there are times – more times than I can count – where I literally wish that you and Mom didn't give birth to me; that I wasn't born. There are times when I'm angry at you and Mom for deciding to have me  _at all_. Because when I was born, it turns out I'm just a display – an object – for you to flaunt. But when I wasn't of use anymore, you just decided to not care."

When she opened her eyes, she was taken aback to see that her father's face had entirely crumpled. No longer was he carrying that poker face, instead, he looked distraught and angst-ridden. He was staring at her with such pity that she couldn't take it.

Quinn slammed her hands on the table, letting herself blow up. " _Why,_ Dad?  _Why_ did you have me?  _Why_ are you doing this to me?  _What_ on god's green earth do you fucking want?" she yelled. He started and glanced away. He looked insecure and unsure. She scoffed, a sardonic smirk on her face. She then stood upright and held onto Rachel's hand, showing him. "This is not going to be over anytime soon. I love Rachel and I hope you'll accept it eventually. But if you don't, I can't do anything about it. Goodbye,  _Dad_."

She spun on her feet, tugging Rachel along behind her. She halted when she saw her family gathered at the door. Her mother and Grandpa Fred were equally horrified. Frannie was sad and she obviously didn't want Quinn to leave. Mercedes looked resigned.

Quinn sighed, offered a curt nod, and then shouldered past them with Rachel behind her.

"Quinn, wait!" Rachel called to her once they were outside. "Quinn, you can't just leave like this!" She pivoted and strode towards Rachel, grabbed her face and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. "Quinn," the brunette pleaded when they pulled apart.

Quinn shook her head, refusing to look at Rachel. And then she planted a kiss to Rachel's cheek before disentangling their fingers and climbing into her car. Without a second glance, she drove off to nowhere.

* * *

When she turned on her phone, she wasn't surprised that it beeped relentlessly, flooded with texts and voice messages. She released a tired sigh and pocketed it, not even bothering to check them out, as she climbed out of the car. She started walking down the sidewalk, aimless and clueless.

Her brain was throbbing, overflowing with different emotions and thoughts. One part of her was proud of herself for finally standing up to her father and calling him out on everything he'd done to her for the past decade. Another part was in disbelief that she even had the guts to do it. One part of her wanted to call Rachel and just ask her to come be with her. Another part of her wanted to be alone and quiet without anyone dogging her about anything.

Half an hour later, she was sitting in a rundown McDonald's with a tray of McDonald's lunch set in front of her. Her phone beeped in her back pocket again. She looked up to the ceiling for a moment before she finally dug it out and unlocked it. She decided to check the texts first.

_Quinn, where are you? – R_

_Q, your girl came banging on my door at EIGHT in the morning asking if I know where you are. What the fuck is going on? – S_

_Lord Tubbington's looking for you. You know how good a cat detective he is – B_

_Frannie just told me what happened. You need to come back right now, Quinn. – S_

_Don't ask how I got your number. Rachel is worried sick about you. So am I. Just call me. – Skye Avery_

_By the way, this is my house address. My door's always open._ _[_ _Address] – Skye_

_Quinn, we're all worried about you. Dad's locked himself in his study and Mom is literally crying. Can you please come back so we can talk about this? – F_

_Fabray, I swear to god if you don't show up in two minutes I'll whip out my secret family magic thing and look for you – S_

_Okay, that's not actually a thing but come on, you're killing us here – S_

_I love you very much. I just want you to know that. I'll always be here. – R_

_I even went to McKinley to look for you and it's an off day! Where in god's name are you? – F_

That was the latest one. Quinn closed the text box and began to dial her voicemail. She rested her forehead in her palm as she waited for the first one.

" _Quinnie, please come back. We can talk about this_." Mom.

" _Quinn Fabray, where the_ _ **fuck**_ _are you?"_ Santana.

" _I went to the trail and you aren't there. Where are you?"_ Rachel.

" _You're not at Lima Bean either. Quinn, this isn't funny at all. Please just call me_." Rachel.

" _Quinn, you can't just run off like that and let us sit here worry about you. Come home."_ Frannie.

" _Fabray! Stop this! Jesus Christ, your girl is literally crying right now! I can't handle her wailing like a baby! Come back!"_ Santana.

" _Quinn, baby, please. I'm literally breaking down right in front of Lima Bean right now. I don't know where you are and I don't know what to do and I can't find you_ _ **anywhere**_ _. Santana and Frannie are both blowing up my phone but I don't know what to do. Can you please, please just tell one of us if you're okay?_ _ **Please**_.  _I love you._ " Rachel.

Listening to Rachel's heart wrenching sobs gutted her. She removed the phone from her ear and wiped at her watery eyes with her jacket sleeve. She then stared down at the device in her hand, still uncertain if she should reach out.

She was well aware that she was being selfish and they honestly didn't deserve this, not even her father – even though he didn't even make an attempt to find out where she was. She pinched her nose, feeling the snot building up behind it. She inhaled harshly before typing out a generic message and sent it to everyone at once.

_I'm safe. I'm fine. I won't be home for now. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. But don't worry about me. – Q_

And then she braced herself for another onslaught of texts. As expected, not even three minutes later, another barrage of texts swamped her phone.

_What the fuck do you mean you're not sure how long you'll be gone? What the fuck, Q? – S_

_You've gotta be kidding. Quinn, this is selfish! Are you pulling another Caroline Forbes thingy? Jesus fucking Christ, man. – F_

_Quinn, we're your best friends._ _\- B_

_Quinn, I didn't raise you to be so irresponsible. Come back home right now. – Mom_

_Does that mean you're skipping school? You can't skip school! It'll be on your record. And Quinn, Jemma and I are really worried about you as well. And stop doing this to Rachel. – Skye_

_Quinn, Santana juz clled me n sed like a bunch of Spanish curses in my ears. Wats goin on? – Finn_

It almost hurt her eyes to read Finn's awful text speak. She didn't bother replying to any of them. Her phone buzzed with an incoming call just then. She stared at the caller ID for the next few seconds, letting it ring out. And then it rang again. She let it ring out again. The whole thing repeated two or three times before Rachel gave up.

Quinn sighed, tossing her phone on the table and buried her face in her hands. She inhaled and exhaled, each breath trembling more than ever. The clog in her throat was rising and she didn't bother stopping it. She was crying in fucking public.

In less than twelve hours, her life had transpired from blissful perfection to disastrous trainwreck. Everything had gone to shit because she was careless and too smothered in her own fantasy land. She had thought that things would go smoothly because it had been going smoothly for quite awhile now.

And then bam, her father exploded, followed herself exploding.

Come to think of it, it was probably to be expected. She'd been keeping everything bottled up for far too long. Her father had been abusing her mentally for far too long. The fire was bound to reach the end of the wire and the bomb was bound to be triggered. Why she expected anything less was a wonder.

She groaned, low and strong into the skin of her palms. It stretched out into thirty-seconds long. It was a toned down version of a scream. She took a deep breath and then groaned again, lowering her head towards the table. She felt as if her entire body was strung up incredibly firmly that she had no space to think, or even to breathe. She was trapped in her own body.

She had gotten a few stares but she couldn't care less. She was a trainwreck anyway, what was a couple of irrelevant stares from irrelevant strangers?

She decided she deserved this, no matter how selfish it made her. Then she started eating.

* * *

Quinn checked into a three-star hotel with her credit card, changed into some clothes she bought from some store and went out after dinnertime. It was ten in the evening and the streets were starting to quiet down. Some shops that had opened until late night were starting to close down as well.

She walked down the streets, turning and twisting with a certain destination in mind. She stopped in front of the closed park. She stared at the  _Keep Out_ sign for far too long, and the temptation to break the law slithered into her chest quietly.

A gust of air escaped her lungs cavity in a whoosh. She pulled her hands out of her jacket pocket and wrung them in the air a few times. And then she put them on the fence. She was careful not to get anywhere near the spiky things as she hoisted herself up, and over the fence. She made a noise of triumph when she landed with a thump.

She brushed her hands, shoved her hands into her pockets and made her way through the bushes, skipping over squirrels and nearly freaking out at a twig she crunched with her foot. She laughed shortly when she reached the clearing. She remained there for awhile, taking in the lake, the blue of it, the lights of streetlamps reflected upon it.

There was no moon today. There were no crickets. The silence was almost suffocating and she almost bailed. It was as if the universe wanted to match her in her sullenness.

Slow steps eventually led her to the shore of the leg. She lowered her legs beneath her and sat crisscross-applesauce, right at the edge of the lake. One small nudge and she would fall in. Of course, it wasn't nearly as thrilling as sitting on the cliff. It wasn't even close. But she just wanted to sit on the edge of something and risk it.

She fixed her gaze on the still water.

 _Motion is impossible_ , she once learned in a philosophy class. Zeno's paradox, the teacher had said.

Quinn never did understand that theory. Motion was completely possible. She had argued that. She would fling her arms in the air as a proof that motion was totally possible. But now as she stared at the water, she guessed she understood why Zeno would come up with that paradox.

Motion was impossible by the way of how people never seemed to change. Motion was impossible by the way of how the society remained as poisonous and toxic as it was before. Motion was impossible in the form of perpetual motion. Motion was impossible in how she was here and they were there and everybody was where they were supposed to be.

But motion was possible too. Rachel had inflicted a zillion motions within her as she ignited the fiery emotions in her when they made love last night. Rachel had light a fire and set alight the nerves and cells in her.

Quinn would never have thought it'd be possible to be so close to another human being as she had last night. It was like the act of simple lovemaking had not only merged their bodies, but also their souls; like the unity forged in the darkness and beneath stars light-years away meant they would always be a part of each other.

Her mind drifted back to those timeless hours, remembering Rachel's touch: the way her hands taken possession of Quinn, knowing better than she ever could what would bring her the most exquisite pleasure. The feeling of Rachel's lips on hers, her tongue questioning, bringing the girl to the brink of an ecstasy beyond imaginations.

 _Like a small boat in a safe harbor, anchored by her arms_ , Quinn smiled gently at the thought.

The sense of tranquility and pacification began to make nest in her being. She pushed back, lying on the grass and letting the leaves tickle her skin. Yes, she needed this.

" _It is irresponsible to just run away, Quinn, but sometimes, you just_ _ **have**_ _to. I will not blame you if you need to do it: run away, that is. If you need to run away and be alone and quiet, you can. Just as long as you understand that you_ _ **need**_ _to come back."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasps* how irresponsible of you, Quinn. how irresponsible!
> 
> oh, in case you haven't got the hint, she's in Cleveland.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about the running away thing she did last chapter, i know some of you are angry at Quinn for that but you have to understand, she is still an eighteen year old girl. sometimes, she just have to be irresponsible.

Of course she would end up falling asleep at the park. Yesterday's events were much too exhausting for her that she'd ended up passing out as soon as she closed her eyes. Something felt different when she woke up. She didn't immediately open her eyes or stir, but she regained consciousness and she just had the feeling that something was different.

Quinn didn't feel scared though. In fact, the weird thing was that she felt safer.

"I know you're awake." She froze, part of her was surprised and part of her sort of knew this was coming. "Get up. We have to leave before we get caught," the voice commanded. The owner of the voice sounded resigned and haggard, like she hadn't slept for days.

Quinn rolled onto her back and slowly blinked her eyes open. The sun hadn't come out yet but the sky's already starting to brighten up. She twisted her head to the left and saw a jean clad butt that she had unashamedly touched less than 48 hours ago. Her eyes then traveled upwards to the owner's face.

Rachel looked paler than she'd ever been and the bags under her eyes were prominent. She didn't look too hot, to put it bluntly. "Come on, Quinn," Rachel said weakly and pushed herself up to her feet.

The tone Rachel was using – tired and defeated and slightly impatient – indicated that the woman wasn't Quinn's biggest fan right now. She stayed on her back for a few seconds, looking up at Rachel who refused to look at her. She licked her lips, nervous and scared, before she gradually got up to her feet, standing next to her.

Was this the breaking point? Was this Rachel's limit? So many questions ran rampant in Quinn's mind as she followed the woman back to where they'd come from. She was so distracted that she nearly slipped on top of the fence had Rachel not reach out to steady her with her hands on Quinn's hips.

"Thanks," Quinn muttered when she got to the other side safely.

Rachel nodded, looking anywhere but at Quinn. "I saw your car at a hotel on my way here. I'll bring you there and then we're gonna go home."

The blonde winced at the sound of home and cleared her throat, shoving her hands in her back pockets. "About that –"

"No," Rachel snapped.

Quinn closed her mouth abruptly, staring at the woman with wide eyes. Rachel held up a finger between them as she gazed down at her shoes. Quinn watched as she breathed slowly repeatedly, her chest expanding and contracting visibly. Her head was slightly lopsided and Quinn spotted a sardonic smile.

The fear in Quinn's heart intensified. She'd gone too far this time. She pulled a disappearing act and got them so worried that now Rachel was probably going to leave her. Quinn stiffened her posture to stop herself from trembling. Screw that, Rachel  _was_  going to leave her.

Rachel looked up, eyes focused on Quinn's nose. "We are going home," she insisted and whirled around to her car.

The car ride to the hotel took ten minutes, but it felt more like decades than ten minutes. She'd never heard silence quite this loud. Palpable frustration was radiating off Rachel like never ending waves as she drove towards the hotel. Quinn spent the ride with her eyes closed, anxious to look at the woman at all.

Thankfully, there were barely any vehicles before sunup so Rachel could easily find a parking space behind Quinn's car.

"I'm gonna follow you back to Lima," Rachel said in monotone, staring straight at the steering wheel.

"Wha – Rachel, there is no need for that!" Quinn protested.

Rachel clenched her jaw, still refusing to look at her. "Yes, there is," she said, accompanied by a curt nod.

"Rachel!"

"No, don't you  _Rachel_  me!" She whipped her head around to scowl at Quinn. Quinn had never seen Rachel looking quite as furious as this before. And it honestly scared the hell out of her. "We are going back to Lima and you are going to talk to your family. You are going to call Santana and tell her that you are very much alive and not off rotting in the woods somewhere as the aftereffect of some crazy nightmare serial killer lurking in public because  _that_  is what she's thinking right now. When you're done talking to whoever it is you need to talk to, then you come to me. And then we're gonna talk."

Quinn wanted to argue. She didn't wanna go back to Lima. She didn't want to face her family, especially her patriarchal father. She didn't want to talk to anyone. Frankly, she didn't even want to face Rachel for now. But judging by the furious expression Rachel had on right now, Quinn figured it wouldn't be a good idea to argue.

"Can I at least grab my things and check out?" she snapped, unable to prevent the resentment from slipping into her voice.

It took a moment but Rachel nodded in acquiescence. "I'll be waiting," she said like it was a warning in case Quinn chose to run away again.

Quinn didn't take long to pack up her stuff since she didn't bring anything except the clothes she wore last night. The receptionist seemed surprised that she was checking out this hour in the morning but she only offered a curt smile and word of gratitude before heading out.

True to her word, Rachel followed her back to Lima. Since it was early in the morning and there was barely any vehicle, they managed to reach Lima in two hours. Quinn spent the entire car ride trying and failing not to think about the effect her actions might have on her relationship with Rachel. She didn't imagine it would come to this. Or maybe she had expected it but refused to imagine it. Rachel had the rights to be pissed, but Quinn thought she of all people would understand.

Quinn wasn't sure she could bear to lose the woman. No, Quinn wasn't dependent on Rachel. No, Quinn wouldn't be unable to live without Rachel. But Quinn didn't want to live without Rachel. In all her eighteen years of life, her several months with Rachel were perhaps the happiest time of her life.

When Quinn rolled into the driveway, Rachel didn't follow suit. She stayed in her car by the sidewalk, obviously ready to take off when she was sure Quinn wasn't going to take off herself. Quinn stood by her car as Rachel sat in hers, regarding each other. For the first time, Quinn couldn't identify the look in Rachel's caramel brown eyes. And that terrified her.

After a long while of beholding without speaking, Rachel gave a nod and drove off. Quinn released a breath that she didn't even know she was holding. It was shaky and didn't feel all that good. In fact, it just increased her pain and made her want to cry. She slumped against her car, head propped on her arms which were rested on the hood of the vehicle.

"Oh well, look who finally decided to come back from the dead." She lifted her head to see her sister standing at the threshold of the house, looking madder than Quinn had ever seen her mad. Frannie had her arms crossed over her chest and her face set into a glower. "What? Aren't you going to pull off a disappearing act for another two or three days? Or maybe even never come back?"

Quinn sighed. She didn't need this. "Frannie," she started.

"Where the hell were you?" her sister blew up, rapidly descending the steps and approaching her. "Did you have  _any_  idea how worried we were? Mom was set on calling the cops this morning!"

"Frannie," she tried again.

" _I_ even tried to put up a notice on Twitter and Facebook and fucking  _Tumblr_  but Santana stopped me. Santana's worse! She wanted to go as far as Cleveland to look for you!" Frannie ignored her and kept yelling. "Dad locked himself up in his study for the entire day until bedtime and I swore to god he was  _crying_  when he was in there!"

"Frannie!" Quinn stopped her in a louder voice. The older girl crossed her arms, evidently displeased to be interrupted. "Please, can we just talk inside?" she asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

"Fine," Frannie spat and pivoted on her heel.

Quinn followed her sister into the house and took her time getting her jacket and beanie off. She was stalling and judging by the way Frannie was glowering at her, she knew. She made a gesture for Frannie to lead the way when she was done. Frannie brought her into the dining room where everyone was gathered there – even Santana and Brittany.

As Quinn took a glance at Santana and her father's expressions, she gathered they must have been in an argument just before she walked in. And then Santana's terse expression immediately went livid when she saw Quinn while her father only got sterner if that was even possible.

Santana leaped out of her chair; Brittany's face brightened with a wide grin; her mother gasped; her grandfather seemed to be struggling between anger and joy; Mercedes just looked relieved. Quinn stood in the doorway, uncertain of what she should do next.

"What  _the fuck_ , Quinn?" Santana seethed in a low tone.

Quinn knew that if she was speaking in that manner, she was legitimately irate. Quinn sighed and ran a hand through her messy hair. "I'm sorry," she breathed.

Santana clenched her hands into tight fists. Quinn fully expected the girl to go ahead and sock her in the face. Instead, she just looked away and sat back down.

Judy scrambled from her chair and engulfed Quinn in a tearful embrace. "Oh god, Quinn, my baby," she whispered in relief. Quinn wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her back.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

Her mother drew away and clasped Quinn's face with her hands gently. She was smiling happily with watery eyes. "I'm so glad you're home," she whispered. "Don't ever do that again, okay?"

Quinn nodded, feeling the want to cry herself as she looked at her mother.

Judy took her by the forearm and dragged her towards her chair, adjacent to her father and next to her grandfather. Quinn glanced at Russell, who still refused to look at her, and reluctantly sat down. Grandpa Fred then patted her on her thigh with a smile, having decided on being joyful instead of angry.

"I didn't raise you to be that irresponsible, Quinn." She looked to Russell, who was  _still_  not looking at her. "You put everyone in a very difficult position yesterday. They were floundering not knowing where you were." She kept mum, knowing she'd only make things worse if she answered. And then there was silence. "Speak, Quinn!" he spat.

She barely jumped at the sharp tone he'd adopted. She just sighed heavily and shook her head. "What do you want me to say?" she asked. He snapped up to her, eyes glaring daggers at her. She rubbed the edge of her brow with a sardonic smile. "I've said everything I've got to say, Dad. Since you're the judge, jury and executioner of this family," she said with dripping sarcasm, "why don't you do what you usually do? Pass your judgment and let us hear it."

Russell looked utterly livid at that point, nostrils flaring and eyes fiery. "Watch your tone, young lady."

"Quinnie, we're all just really surprised," Judy attempted. "We didn't expect you to be involved with a…a  _woman_ , much less a woman  _twelve_  years older than you!" Quinn didn't miss the almost blanch on Judy's face when she said that.

"Neither did I, Mom," Quinn disclosed. "Not the woman part;  _that_  I've always known." Her mother gasped and her grandfather's clasp on the arms of his chair tightened. "What's that they say? Love knows no boundaries."

"You have always been a good Christian daughter," Judy said in vain, as if that could change anything.

"Well, I think some parts of the Bible are utter bull," Quinn retorted just as quickly.

Russell slapped the table surface hard, calling everyone's attention. "How dare you insult the –"

"I didn't insult! I'm just pointing out that there  _are_  some parts of the Bible that don't make any sense!" she countered vehemently. She frowned at her father. "Are you angry about the fact that Rachel's a  _woman_  or that she's twelve years older than me?"

He curled his fingers inwards to form a hard fist. She stared back at him with vehemence. "Both," he snapped.

She snorted and shook her head. "Then how are Santana and Brittany in our house right now?" He gaped at her. "I mean, you couldn't have  _not_  known that they're a couple! You're not  _that_  blind. Do you just turn a blind eye to them?"

"Actually, he wanted us out of your house before you came in," Santana joined in with much too fake smile of her own.

Quinn nodded in understand. "I see."

"It is wrong," her mother opined pitifully.

"It is –" Quinn closed her mouth abruptly, realizing that her voice was louder than she intended it to be. She took a couple of deep breaths in attempt to pacify the turbulence arising in her chest currently. "Then what  _is_ right, Mom?" she asked. "Mentally abusing your child? Lying to your child?  _Watching_  your child being mentally abused by your spouse and  _not_  doing anything about it?"

"Wha –"

She laughed humorlessly with a cruel smirk. "Oh, don't even pretend you didn't do all those things; both of you," she hawked nastily. "Mom, you've been watching him taunting me with every opportunity he gets for the last five years and you didn't do  _anything_. You just pretend that our family is normal and happy. You pretend and you drink and you ignore. It's all you do."

Judy was driven speechless from Quinn's verbal attack. She closed her eyes and diverted her gaze to the glass of whiskey she had in her hand. Point proven.

" _None_  of you did anything," she accused, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

She looked around the table, giving each of her family member a few seconds of her attention and they all looked predictively remorseful. When she looked to Santana, the Latina looked somewhat guilty too – maybe because she'd been watching Quinn suffering from Russell's mental torment for years and didn't do anything about it either.

She could see her father was striving arduously to not display any emotions he felt but he failed, because his expression swiftly went from cold to repentant.

As they sat there in silence, Quinn came to the realization that the sole reason this family was falling apart was her and her father. Their objection to do anything in order to mend their relationship was the main reason that this family was falling to shambles. She leaned forward and tiredly propped her elbow on the table, supporting her head with her hand. Her sigh was audible as she exhaled and she closed her eyes.

She wished she was still back in Cleveland. She wished Rachel hadn't found her. She wished Rachel was here by her side.

"You can't blame me for running away at the first chance I get," she whispered, slicing the air of silence with her whispered words. "It's all I've known to do: run away and hide whenever a problem arises." She stopped again, choosing her words carefully. "I'm sorry that I let you down. I'm sorry that I made you feel embarrassed or ruined your reputation. I'm sorry for whatever it is that made you feel so disgusted and hateful towards me for the last five years."

"Quinn, your father does not find you disgusting," Grandpa Fred voiced from beside her.

She turned towards Russell slowly. "Do you?" she asked feebly. Russell didn't answer. She sighed. "I was afraid to play anymore because every time I tried, I would be reminded of Grammy dying in a hospital bed without me there. I would remember how I literally ran off the stage in public. I would hear you calling me self-entitled brat." She could still hear his venomous voice in her head now. "But Rachel helped me. She's helped me through so much. She helped me overcome the fear of playing. I started  _playing_  again because of  _her_."

"Wait, you're playing again?" Judy remarked in disbelief from across the table.

"Yes, Mom, I started playing again. But this time, I don't intend to play for anyone else but me. I'm not gonna compete or do a showcase or whatever it is you wanted me to do when I was a kid. I'm going to play on my own terms."

Judy nodded, looking far too delighted to be unnerved by Quinn's stern tone. "Yes, of course, Quinnie."

She looked around the table and said slowly, "Rachel Berry is the gentlest and kindest soul I've ever met. She didn't force me into doing anything I didn't want to. She is patient and thoughtful. What's most important is that she  _loves_  me. You'd be surprised by how much she's willing to go to because of her love for me." Quinn remembered when they almost did it at the park but they didn't because she wasn't ready and Rachel was so considerate. Or when Rachel would just go out and meet her in the middle of the night for an ice-cream because she asked her to. "And I love her. Believe it or not, I am in love with her.

"Believe me, I was scared too when I realized I had feelings for her. I mean, you guys said it yourselves; she's twelve years older than I am. She's more mature and she is a woman while I am just a girl barely out of teenage hood."

"But she still loves you," her mother declared, in a manner that indicated that it was finally dawning upon her. Judy lifted her gaze from her glass of whiskey and stared at Quinn, her blue eyes a new kind of bright. "She still loves you."

Quinn huffed a laugh and nodded. "She still loves me." Quinn couldn't be so sure about that right now but whatever.

"Oh Quinnie."

Quinn licked her lips and shrugged. "You guys can ground me or disown me or send me to a camp or whatever, but I'm still going to love her." She furrowed her brows slightly and stiffened her posture. "So yeah, Dad, go ahead. Be the judge, jury and executioner. Just tell me right now if you want me out of this house and I will pack my bags immediately."

It was supposed to be just ten minutes, but it felt a lot like a millennia to her. The air was so still Quinn was sure they would hear a pin drop. The grandfather clock ticked and ticked, counting the seconds in rhythmic ticks. Grandpa Fred's increased breathing was audible next to her. And she just waited for her father to bring down the gavel.

"I think you've spoken more to me these couple of weeks more than you ever had in five years." And the gavel was dropped. His lips curled slightly into an almost there smile. He looked sad and regretful and somewhat remorseful. "It's depressing because while you talk to me for the first time in five years, we have to discuss matters such as this." He sighed and shifted in his seat, patting his chest for a second. "You are my daughter; my flesh and my blood. I can't change that." That sentence was supposed to sound empowering, but instead it just sent dreads down her spine. "I regret employing Miss Berry; I really do." He was kicking her out. "Maybe if I had trusted you two months ago and believe that your sister can do it without a tutor, then maybe you wouldn't have met Miss Berry and all these wouldn't happen. Maybe if I had tried to be more of a father to you than the monster you obviously think I am now, I would have realized that you're different from all of us."

 _Just say it_ , she snarled mentally.  _Just be the monster and throw me out_.

"It's wrong," he sighed. She decided that she wasn't going to listen to his monologue when it would just end up one way. She placed her hands on the surface of the table, ready to stand up. "But the real reason that I'm so mad about this is because I can't bear the thought of losing my baby girl." She stopped, staring at her father in surprise. "You and Frannie are going off to college later this year and that fact has already pained me enough. The house is going to be quieter and lonelier and I won't be able to hear the piano or you singing to whatever pop song in your room." When he lifted his head, she gasped when she saw the tears brimming his eyes. "And I have to find out that I'm going to lose you to that woman more. You're gonna spend less time at home because you will want to spend more time with  _her_. And I can't…" He stopped and breathed deeply. "I guess I'm just not ready."

"Dad," Quinn breathed, partly in disbelief and partly astounded. "You're not gonna lose me. Hell, I was so afraid of losing  _you_  that I refused to talk to you until you do something about your heart!" she exclaimed. "I promise you, Dad, you're not going to lose me."

They stared at each other for a moment. She let him study her, to search the truth in the eyes he'd given her. Then he nodded. "I've lost you once, Quinn. I'm not going to lose you again." A slow grin stretched out on her face. "I am going to try to accept Miss Berry as your… _girlfriend_ ," he choked. "Because I can see that you are indeed very much in love with her. And my daughter's happiness is what's important to me."

She displayed a full blown grin and she couldn't help but leap a little in her seat. "Thank you." And then her smile dimmed a little. "Will she still…tutor Frannie?" she asked reluctantly.

He looked at her sharply that she was sure her heart stopped. And then he turned to his older daughter. "Do you still want Miss Berry as your tutor?" he asked.

Quinn's head spun to look at her sister so quick that it was a fortune her neck didn't roll off her shoulders. They were staring at each other, knocked for six. Russell Fabray had actually asked for their opinion. Frannie swallowed and gradually turned back to Russell.

"Well, I've still got a week until the showcase. It'd be kind of a waste to not make the most out of it," she said nervously.

Russell nodded in acquiescence. "Okay. Then Miss Berry will continue as your tutor for the rest of the week." He looked almost constipated each time he spoke Rachel's name.

"Dad, if I may be so bold," Quinn said.

"You've been bolder than you've ever been for the past week, Quinn," he snapped, not maliciously.

Grandpa Fred and Frannie snorted simultaneously while Quinn heaved a nervous laugh. "Yeah, if you all are going to try to accept Rachel," she directed a glance at Judy who looked expectant, "you might want to actually start calling her Rachel."

He was upright and rigid like a sergeant major. If they didn't know better, they would have thought he'd been asked to betray his own country. " _Fine_ ," he choked and looked away from her.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Dad," she said tenderly. He looked back at her, softening a little. "I do love you, you know."

He sagged a whole lot more and he offered a barely there smile.

Then she narrowed her eyes a little in contemplation. "Am I…grounded?" she asked, picking her nails.

"Yes."

"Oh yeah."

"You bet."

"Your ass is so grounded."

Her parents, her grandfather and her sister all spoke simultaneously – her father was trying to look as stern as possible, her mother with a nonchalance, her grandfather with a teasing smile and her sister with a twinkling smirk.

She winced and then glared when Santana and Brittany cackled across the table. "Can I, at least, have a day off today?" she requested. "What I did last night didn't just affect you." She shrugged helplessly, shooting pointed glances at her parents, hoping they would get the hint.

Russell looked like it took him all his energy to grant his approval. Her mother just drank more from her whiskey glass with a sigh and a nod. She shared a long look with her husband, like they were having a telepathy conversation. Quinn shouldn't be surprised that they shared a bond as deep as that but she was grateful because as a result, he nodded begrudgingly.

A broad grin showed itself on her face. She stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over. "I'll be back tonight…I think." Russell glared at her. " _Definitely_ ," she corrected. "And then you can ground me for as long as you want. Well, hopefully not too long. I mean, I gotta have a life before I go to college, right? So –"

"Quinnie," Judy stopped her, her lips curled into a bemused smirk. "Stop digging a hole."

She shut up and nodded. "Right. I'll see you tonight." She then looked across the table at her best friends who were ready to leave as well. Santana stopped when her eyes met Quinn's. "I'll talk to you later, I promise."

Santana presented an understanding smile. "I'll hold you to that."

Quinn laughed and bade them another goodbye before rushing out of her house. She denied herself the luxury of thinking as she drove towards her destination. She'd never been there before so she only had an address in her memory. She hoped she could find the location. And then she was beaming proudly when she saw Rachel's car parked outside a home.

It disappeared almost immediately as she remembered her purpose here. She was really glad that the discussion she had with her family that was long overdue was finally out of the window. That wasn't to say that it was all solved now but at least, they found a way to get around it.

But now this, the salvation of her obstacle full relationship. The universe seemed hell bent on wrecking her relationship with Rachel, presenting an obstacle whenever she thought it was sailing smoothly. This time, the obstacle was her. She would not let her nerves stop her from trying to salvage this one. Rachel Berry was the one thing she could not afford to lose.

She guzzled down a bottle of water before stepping out of the car and trudging up the driveway to the patio. She pressed the doorbell twice and waited for it to open. She listened as heavy footsteps sounded behind the door and a few muttered words were heard before she heard the lock unlock. And then it opened to reveal a tall man in glasses, white hair covering his head.

One of Rachel's fathers, Quinn was sure. He was smiling. She was slightly creeped out. Who the fuck  _smile_ at a stranger? "Quinn Fabray, I presume?" Her eyes widened and her throat dried. "You're more beautiful in person than Leroy and I had imagined you to be."

She dug her fingernails into her palms, biting her lips. She wasn't sure how she should respond to such parental friendliness. She had no experience of that herself, after all. "Um…"

Another set of feet announced another intruder. "Hiram, who is it?" Another man – Rachel's other father – appeared next to the man in glasses, significantly shorter. His eyes widened and his lips stretched into a shit eating grin, as if he saw god himself. "Oh, is this her?" he gasped, smacking his husband's arm repeatedly.

"I think she is," Hiram responded with a similar grin. "You are Quinn, right?"

She tilted her head and laughed uncertainly. "I am."

Quinn didn't know a wider grin was possible but Leroy just did it. Quinn worried that his face would split if he grinned any wider. Hiram, on the other hand, leaped and whooped with joy – literally. Quinn didn't know what to do except to laugh more uncertainly.

"What's all the commotion about?" She stopped laughing, frozen on the spot. The two men were pushed apart by a petite woman, Rachel. Rachel's eyes widened when she saw her at her doorstep. "Quinn," she pronounced.

Quinn swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, Rachel, this girl seems really nice. You have to keep her!" Hiram urged cheerfully, evidently unaware of the tension between the girl and the woman.

"Yes, yes, Rachel. Invite her to dinner tonight," Leroy joined in.

All the while, they just stared at each other, Rachel in surprise and Quinn in nerves. "I think it's time for us to talk."

" _Lucy, do not let your nerves stop you from doing something that you want or_ _ **have**_ _to do. You'll regret it sooner or later. The more nervous you are, the more you should do it."_


	22. Chapter 22

"Dad, Daddy, I'm warning you  _right now_. You are  _not_  to come in under any circumstances. I mean it,  _any_."

Quinn sat on the very edge of the bed – most certainly Rachel's – and looked around her, trying profusely to not be amused by the parent-daughter discussion outside.

"But how will we know if you're alive?"

"And surely you'll be thirsty after talking."

"Or whatever it is you're gonna do in your bedroom."

"No judgement, Rachel."

Quinn's eyes widened, nearly choking on air as she listened to Rachel's fathers making excuses just to come in. She stood up from the bed, feeling quite uncomfortable at making herself comfortable in this room since she had no idea if she'd be making a second visit.

"I will come down and get water if she or I get thirsty. We're only  _talking_. We won't kill each other unless there's a serial killer hiding in the roof which is highly unlikely."

Great argument there, Rachel. She lowered a little to get a closer look on the framed photos lined up on the dresser in front of the bed. She smiled to herself as she took in the photos that were arranged in chronological. She was practically watching Rachel grow up.

"There! You said it yourself! You can't be sure if there  _is_  a serial killer hiding in the roof!"

Quinn almost wanted to open the door and invite the parents in and let them listen in to their talk. Or let them gawk at her. Seriously, it was like they'd never seen Rachel's partners before.

"Dads, I'm being serious here. Quinn and I need to  _talk._ And I can't have you gaping at her like a rare specimen."

"She  _is_ a rare specimen."

"Yes, trust me, I know."

Quinn blushed.

"She is also a very young rare specimen. She's just…she's not used to attention like the attention you want to give her, okay? Let us have this talk and then we'll go from there, alright?"

Silence ensued, interrupted only by the several hush voices that Quinn could only assume were Rachel and her dads talking in lower tones. They must have realized that they were talking too loudly.

 _A very young rare specimen_ , Rachel had described her. Well, she wasn't wrong. Nonetheless, Quinn would really love it if there were other words to describe her youth. She sighed and straightened herself, standing in front of the window.

Honestly, she still had no idea how to start it. She just came here on instinct. She didn't have a script written out or a prepared starter point in her head. She was just going with the flow. And now, as she stood there looking out the window, she realized that maybe going with the flow wasn't such a good idea.

She really wasn't making such a strong front to support her point that she was mature enough to lead her own life.

As soon as she told Rachel that it was time for their talk, the brunette had given a nod and dragged her upstairs to bedroom, instructing her to stay there before closing the door behind her on her way out.  _Stay there_ , she'd said in a way like Quinn was a little girl who didn't know how to keep her hands to herself; as if she didn't just take Quinn's virginity the night before last.

The door clicked open softly behind her and she spun around. Rachel was just closing the door. She leaned against the closed door and stared back at Quinn with the same resigned look that Quinn carried.

"Did you run away from your family again or did you actually talk to them?" Rachel asked after a long moment of silence. It was bitter and kind of sharp but Quinn also knew it was Rachel giving her a way in.

Quinn sucked in air through her nostrils and pushed away from the window sill. "I talked to them," she clarified. "For real this time."

"Well, what you pulled off yesterday morning was also talking with a little dose of yelling and running away," Rachel mentioned, ticking her brows. "Did you yell and run away this time?"

Quinn squinted, trying to figure out if Rachel was being serious or teasing her. "There was some yelling, but no running away," she decided. "Can we not talk about my family?"

Rachel's brows touched her hairline. "Our problems root from your family," she said.

"No," Quinn disagreed instantly. She might be young and slightly immature, but she knew her problem when she saw one. "Our problems root from me." Rachel stared at her, quietly asking her to proceed. "My fear of my family disowning me, my youth, my immaturity, my dependence on you to be there whenever I want you to; these are all the roots of our problems." To emphasize her point, she pointed at Rachel and then her and then at Rachel again.

"You are not immature," Rachel argued.

"Yes, I am!" Quinn licked her lips and sighed. "I think the way I act during the two days before the final game and the way I ran away yesterday are proof enough that I can be  _quite_  immature."

Rachel was speechless for once. She just blinked at Quinn as she was in a thought process of her own. Quinn's eyes followed her as she slowly moved to her bed and climbed onto it. She couldn't help but inwardly marvel at how adorable Rachel looked snuggled up against her mountain of pillows. Her marvel turned to surprise when the brunette patted the empty space to her right, but she would never pass up a chance to cuddle with her. Within seconds, Quinn was comfortable snuggled in Rachel's arms, in Rachel's comfy bed.

"Why did you run away?" Rachel asked.

Quinn considered the brunette's question for awhile. "Sometimes, I still can't get over the fact that I'm actually eighteen years old." Rachel chuckled, her chest vibrating against Quinn's ear. "I have never truly learned how to face my problems, you know. I just…I think it's my default mode to just run away when there's a problem." She closed her eyes, just taking in Rachel's warmth. "It took me ages to talk to my dad about his sickness, or to talk to anyone about anything. You're like the first person who actually got to crack me in such a short period of time."

She waited for Rachel to say something. "I'm glad," she finally said. "Not that I'm glad that you had to be in pain for five years, just that I'm glad that I can be the one to break the record." A pause. "Oh my god, that sounded like I'm in a race to get you to crack and that just sounds so not right." Quinn opened her mouth but Rachel continued, "Shit, I sound just like Jemma right now."

When she was sure Rachel was done, she said, "Rachel." She was barely able to stop from laughing. "It's okay."

Rachel nudged her with a jerk of her arm. "Hey, don't you laugh at me!"

Quinn giggled and turned her head so she could cover her face with Rachel's chest – which, might she add, was quite pleasurable. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "You're just too cute."

"And stop taking advantage of my boobs. We're not done talking." Rachel was failing in her attempts to be serious because she was laughing too. "Quinn!" she whined.

Quinn lifted her head just to laugh into the clear air, breathing air in and exhaling them in guffaws. Rachel huffed and nudged Quinn's lower body away while keeping her arm around Quinn's shoulders which ended up with them being in an awkward position.

"Stop laughing," Rachel commanded. Quinn did not stop laughing. "Oh hell," the brunette muttered.

In the next second, Quinn really did stop laughing, not on her own accord though. But she really couldn't complain, because Rachel had placed her lips over Quinn's as in order to stop Quinn from laughing. Quinn instantly took advantage of the not-so-attack and kissed Rachel back, determined to drive the woman senseless.

"Quinn, we're supposed to  _talk_ ," Rachel muttered into Quinn's persistent lips a few moments later, pulling away.

Quinn sighed and leaned away as well. "Yeah," she responded simply.

They resumed their former position, Quinn snuggled up against Rachel and Rachel's arm around Quinn's shoulders. "Why else did you run away?"

Trust Rachel to be able to figure out that there was more than just one cause to her rebellious streak. Quinn was almost embarrassed for this. "I have all these frustrations and anger cooped up in me for so long they're boiling over the pot. And when yesterday happened, it all just spilled over and I lost it. I went nuts and pulled a disappearing act on you guys." She exuded a nervous laughter. "Go big or go home, right?"

"I think I'd rather you go home with this one," Rachel joked. Quinn snorted and rolled away from Rachel's embrace so she could lie on her back next to the woman. The brunette shifted so she could lie on her side with her head propped on her hand and look at Quinn. "Honestly, Quinn, we nearly tore the town apart looking for you."

Quinn flicked Rachel a guilty smile and reached out to gently touch her cheek. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I didn't. It was a wild guess."

"Pretty lucky wild guess," she commented.

Rachel's lips curled into a small smile. "I guess we are connected on some level beyond comprehension." Quinn couldn't agree more. "I remember sitting in my bedroom, literally crying to Jemma and Skye on the phone about not having found you yet and they told me they'd keep looking for me. When we hung up, I suddenly had this…awakening of sorts. And I just put on my coat, completely ignoring my fathers and raced there. And then I found you there, looking more adorable than you've ever been as you sleep."

"I'm always adorable," Quinn protested.

Rachel scoffed in mock self-deprecating manner. "Of course you are. How can I ever doubt that?" Both of them burst into soft laughter for several seconds until they sobered. They gazed at each other for a long time, allowing themselves to bask in the comfortable silence. "I wouldn't know what to do if I had lost you," Rachel whispered.

Quinn's heart pounded against her chest wildly. "Me either."

"My feelings for you, Quinn, they far surpass the feelings I had for my ex-husband. Sometimes I would think to myself: how foolish and young could I be to marry a man for whom I don't feel as much and as intense as I feel for you?"

"Pretty foolish, I'd say," Quinn teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Honestly though, please don't do that again," Rachel pleaded.

"Promise." Because she was eighteen and she was occasionally childish, she offered Rachel a pinky finger. Rachel laughed and hooked hers through Quinn's. "I love you."

Rachel nodded, acknowledging Quinn's proclamation. "I love you too," she replied. Then she swooped down to capture Quinn's lips in a tender kiss. She pulled away, hovering over Quinn in close distance. "Are you grounded?"

"I am." Quinn chortled. "For the first time in my life, I am a grounded teenager."

"How are you here?"

"I promised them I'll be back before dinner."

Rachel narrowed her eyes for a moment. Then she lifted her gaze, catching a glimpse at the clock on the bedside table. She then leered down at Quinn; it was a leer Quinn very much liked.

Quinn responded with a smirk of her own. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I hope you're thinking what I'm thinking."

Without another word, she countered by taking things into her own hands and pulled Rachel's head down so she could kiss her.

* * *

It'd be a lie to say she came back to a friendly and happy family. At least they were cordial, she couldn't ask for more. Her father asked her about her graduation preparations without the usual sharpness in his voice. Her mother did not have a glass of whiskey on the table during dinner. Her grandfather was mischievous as usual.

They didn't bring up the topic of Rachel at all, which Quinn was totally fine by, considering the things they'd done to each other before she came back and she was sure she was sporting sex hair.

Rachel's fathers were as jovial and welcoming when she came out of Rachel's bedroom as they had been when they invited her into their home. They sported the sort of smiles that indicated they knew something and she really hoped she and Rachel hadn't been too loud. Quinn would have loved to join them for dinner had it not been her promise to her parents about coming back by nightfall.

"Oh thank god," Rachel had said when Quinn told her about the status of her job before she departed. "At least I can  _still_  see you!"

Quinn had blushed.

_Just so you know, your current hairstyle is what we normally call 'sex hair' – F_

She glanced up and shot her sister – who was sitting across the table and smirking – an annoyed look.

_Stop – Q_

_I can't believe you had time to do the do like wow she must be really good – F_

It was a miracle she didn't choke on air itself as she read Frannie's text. She just made a strangled noise and sighed. She did not want to talk about her budding sex life with her sister.

"Something the matter, Quinnie?" Judy asked.

Quinn quickly looked up from her phone, storing it back into her pocket. "What? No. Everything's fine." To further alleviate Judy's suspicions, she put on a reassuring smile and went back to eating. She shot daggers at Frannie between spoonfuls of soup who was still smirking like a Cheshire cat. She only dared to ask, "How long am I grounded for?" when the dishes were cleared away.

Russell looked at her, and then to his wife. They were doing the silent communication thing again which was kind of creepy. They both turned to her at the same time. "A week," they said simultaneously.

Before she could say it, Frannie cut her to it, "Okay, what happened when you were away?"

Their parents looked to Frannie in surprise. And they looked like they were deer caught in headlights. "What do you mean?"

Her sister narrowed her eyes, seeing through their parents façade easily. Frannie Fabray would contribute a lot to law enforcement in the future. "You guys are like more couple-y than you've ever been. And you keep doing this silent communication thing which is seriously freaky."

"I had a heart attack, Francine. I think that warrants some couple-y acts, as you said," Russell said, nonchalant.

"That's not just it," Frannie retorted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Judy replied.

Frannie ogled their parents more and crossed her arms. "Sure," she drew it out, her tone fully indicating that she did not believe them. Neither did Quinn, actually.

"Shouldn't you be practicing, Frannie? You missed two days of lessons already," Russell steered away.

Quinn and her sister simultaneously rolled their eyes at their parents' poor attempt of changing the subject. "Fine," her sister obliged and stood up.

Quinn stood up as well. "I'll help Mercedes with the dishes."

Mercedes was stoic and quiet as they did the dishes together, not that Quinn could blame her. She tried to make eye contact with the woman several times but all those times were either ignored or deflected.

"I'm sorry," she spoke.

She didn't get anything from Mercedes for the first few minutes but then there was a sharp hum of acknowledgement from Mercedes. That certainly wasn't enough.

"You can totally yell at me if you want." Quinn had noticed that she hadn't spoken a word when they were talking this morning and Quinn knew that Mercedes deserved a chance to put her down. Mercedes had watched her grow up with her own eyes, after all. "Please say something."

"There isn't anything to say," Mercedes said after a long moment of silence.

"You're angry," Quinn pointed out.

Mercedes hummed in agreement.

"So you should have a lot to say."

"The fury I feel towards you, Quinn, can't be put into mere words," Mercedes declared curtly, nudging her out of the way to retrieve the clean plates from the dishwasher.

Quinn sighed, circling the counter and watching Mercedes arranged the plates neatly on the rack. "I'm sorry," she reiterated.

Mercedes finished arranging the plates and stood there with her back to Quinn. Quinn stared at her warily, bracing for the outburst that could come anytime. She would be really glad if Mercedes would just scream and yell at her like an angry person should. She couldn't bear it if their housekeeper just locked it in and not talk to her for days or even weeks.

Mercedes turned around slowly to face Quinn. "Sorry doesn't even cut it," Mercedes snapped. There it was. "Of all the advice I have given you since you were born, I don't remember any one of them being running away when faced with an obstacle."

Quinn sighed. "I know," she said dejectedly.

"No, you  _don't_  know!" Mercedes barked. "It's just yesterday when I realized that all the things I've told you were just thrown into the trashcan." She looked utterly upset at that. "I'm so disappointed in you, Quinn."

"I know," she repeated.

"You should  _never_  run away. It never solves  _anything_. In fact, it'll only make it worse."

"I know."

"I was so worried about you!"

"I know."

"I couldn't do anything properly because I was too busy worrying about you! I couldn't even sleep!"

"I know I don't have say in this family but you should never do that again!"

Quinn's eyes widened and she immediately shot up from the stool she was sitting up. "What? No, that's not true!" She rapidly walked around the counter to Mercedes and grabbed the woman's shoulders, turning her around to see her. "You have as much say in this family as anyone of us," she insisted. "Look, yesterday was just me being outrageous and stupid and it has nothing to do with you. If it wasn't for  _you_ , I'd probably be doing things that are much worse than running away."

"You shouldn't even be running away," Mercedes scolded in a mellower voice.

Quinn timidly smiled and gingerly pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Never again, I promise."

Mercedes huffed but returned her hug. They stayed hugging each other for the next few minutes before they pulled away from one another. Quinn sat back on the stool she was sitting on and Mercedes sat opposite her.

"I'll buy you a lifetime supply of tots," Quinn said seriously.

"Oh, I wouldn't pass up on that," Mercedes quipped with a gleeful smile.

Quinn then mustered up the cutest of her puppy dog eyes and fixed them on Mercedes. "So are you not angry anymore?"

Mercedes snorted. "Your puppy dog eyes don't work on me anymore." Well, it was worth a try. "I'm still mad at you." Quinn's face fell. "But it'll pass." Quinn grinned again. "So, everything's out in the open!" The blonde nodded with a hum. "Everything  _is_  out in the open, right?"

"Totally," Quinn answered. "I'm not hiding anything anymore."

"Good," Mercedes approved. "It's been really hard trying to pretend I don't know anything in front of your parents."

"What do you mean 'pretend'?"

Mercedes smirked. "They totally caught on about you sneaking out in the middle of the night. Turns out, you're not so much a ninja as you think you are."

Quinn's jaw dropped. " _What_?" she gasped, horrified. Mercedes nodded in a sagely manner. "When did they tell you?"

"One time, they came into the kitchen with the most serious looks on their faces. I thought they were going to fire me, but then they asked me if I know if there's something going on with you; have you met someone et cetera. It's not like I can tell them you're sneaking out to meet your would-be  _girl_ friend who's also much older."

"Oh my god."

Mercedes hummed. "Well, now we don't have to hide anything anymore."

"Trust me, I'm very relieved about that."

Mercedes hummed again. And then she narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Quinn – or her hair. Quinn brushed it with her fingers subconsciously. "Girl, you can't comb that hair no matter how much you try." Quinn's eyes widened. Mercedes then gave her an all-knowing look. "I take it you and Rachel have reconciled as well. Good job."

"Mercedes!"

The woman lifted her hands in the air, palms out. "And that is as far as I'm going to say and want to know about your sex life."

"It's not  _that_  obvious!" Quinn yelped.

Mercedes cocked a brow and shrugged. "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

"It is not!"

"Okay."

"Mercedes!"

* * *

Quinn was catching up on homework when Judy knocked on the open door and took a step into the room. Quinn dropped her pen and swiveled her chair to face her mother.

"You need something, Mom?" she asked.

Judy smiled. "We'd like you to come down. We have something for you."

Quinn sputtered and gestured at her pile of homework on the desk. "I have –"

"Oh, it can wait."

"I have class tomorrow."

"You don't sleep anyway," Judy dismissed.

"Mom!" Quinn exclaimed with a chuckle. "I  _do_ sleep!"

"It won't take long."

"Mom, what is it?" Quinn asked, refusing to budge from her chair. She really did have homework to catch up to.

Judy looked at her for a second longer before shaking in her head in the air like she always did for no reason at all and went to sit down on Quinn's bed. "Have you written your valedictorian speech yet?"

Quinn blinked at the total suddenness of the question. "Not yet. There's still a week until graduation."

Judy tilted her head. "Don't do things last minute, Quinnie."

"Mom, you're being weird."

Judy sighed. She looked away and focused hard on the checkered patterns on the carpet in Quinn's room. "I've been thinking a lot about the things you said this morning," she said softly. Quinn's breath hitched. She considered apologizing but she realized she shouldn't, because it was all true despite how harsh she'd been. "I really haven't been much of a mother to you, have I?"

Quinn shook her head a little regretfully. "No, Mom," she said bluntly.

Judy looked up to meet her eyes. "I am sorry that I let all of those things happen to you, Quinnie. I didn't realize how tasking it was for you."

"Well," Quinn shrugged as her lips pursed, "I've learned to get used to it."

Judy shook her head vigorously and reached out to take her hands in hers. "No, no, it's not something a person should get used to!" Judy took a deep breath. "I promise you, Quinn, I'll give it my best effort in the future."

Quinn nodded, a genuinely grateful smile on her face. "That's all I want."

"Also, your father and I will try our very best to accept Rachel as your…" Judy hesitated, still finding it hard to say the word.

"Girlfriend," Quinn supplied.

Judy nodded with an apologetic smile. "Yes, that."

"Thank you, Mom."

Her mother patted her cheek affectionately before standing up, inadvertently pulling Quinn up with her. "Now, come on! Don't keep them waiting!"

Before Quinn could protest, she was already out the door. She could only shake her head and let her mother drag her to the stairs and down they went. The living room was dark when they reached it. Quinn only frowned in confusion.

"Happy birthday!" was shouted by multiple voices across the room as the light turned on to reveal her family gathered by the coffee table. "Well, technically it's belated birthday but we really couldn't let you miss your 18th birthday without any form of celebration," Frannie added, relentlessly squeezing a noisy rubber duck until Grandpa Fred stopped her.

"So, happy 18th, Quinn!" Grandpa Fred said with a bright grin.

"Sure took you long enough," Mercedes huffed, coming out with a self-baked birthday cake.

Honestly, Quinn had kind of forgot that it was her birthday yesterday with all that had happened. And this was a pretty heart-stopping reminder, not that she was complaining. Who'd complain when they see a birthday cake that looked as tasty as the one Mercedes had put on the coffee table?

"Thank you, guys," Quinn said with a laugh.

She looked at all of them and they were all grinning at her as if they'd forgotten everything. Her father was even carrying a rare smile, albeit stoic.

"Come on! Make a wish!"

She was pushed to the couch to sit in front of the coffee table. She looked at it and then closed her eyes, clasping her hands together.

_I wish to be happy._

* * *

"Do not ever,  _ever_  do that again!"

One o'clock in the morning, having finally finished her homework after spending thirty minutes of family time in the living room, she was finally able to call Santana. "Call you at one in the morning?"

" _Disappear_ ," Santana practically seethed.

"I promise." Quinn had made a lot of promises of the sort today, she realized. "Thank you for being worried."

"Um, hello? You're my best friend?" Santana exclaimed like it was a no brainer.

Quinn smiled. "Love you too."

"I said you're my best friend. I didn't say I love you."

She laughed. Typical Santana. "Alright, San," she indulged wholeheartedly.

Santana huffed. "Well, now that we've got that necessary angry best friend part over with. Here's the thing: bravo." Quinn rolled her eyes. "I didn't even know you had it in you, Fabray! To run away like that and be a rebel. Truly bravo!" She could hear Santana clapping in the background.

"I do try."

"Well, these things are like one-time thing only so don't ever do it again," Santana insisted.

"I promised you, Santana. I keep my promises."

"Good." And then Santana sighed and she went softer. "I don't know what I'd do without my best friend."

Quinn sighed as well. "You won't have to find out."

" _Luce my dear, things will get better eventually. You just have to_ _ **believe**_ _it. Or else, there really is nothing to live for._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *excited voice* *rapid blinking eyes* *clasped hands* what do you think what do you think what do you think


	23. Chapter 23

Quinn had calmly and willingly stayed seated in her seat when Miss Avery asked her to do so after the bell rang. They waited for the students to file out, some of which would glare at Quinn and the others would just roll their eyes because they were so used to this situation. It seemed that Miss Avery had never asked someone to stay behind as much as she'd asked Quinn to.

As soon as Jacob Ben Israel closed the door behind him – not without giving them one last knowing look – Quinn quipped, "I think they think we're having an affair."

Miss Avery hitched her left shoulder in an indifferent shrug. "Let them think what they want to think. Besides, they've seen Jemma around school a few times already." Quinn smirked when the woman pulled out a booklet of passes from a drawer and started scribbling on the front page. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not," Quinn said, making a motion of zipping her mouth.

Her teacher tore the page out and walked down the aisle of desks until she arrived to Quinn's. She put it on her desk and sat down on the seat next to her.

Quinn whistled and smiled at her teacher gratefully. At least she got to skip AP Calculus now with this pass.

As Quinn scanned her teacher's unreadable face, silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shattered on the ground. She expected Miss Avery to blow up and lecture her, but she didn't. Well, not yet. The only sound breaking the silence was Miss Avery's forefinger nail tapping against the surface of the desk, like she was tapping to a melody in her head.

"Jemma wants to me tell you that Rachel did not deserve the silent treatment," Miss Avery finally said. Quinn stilled. "However, she's glad that you've come back and you reconciled with her best friend."

For a brief moment, Quinn narrowed her eyes at her teacher, unsure if that was really all she had to say. "Okay," Quinn drew out slowly, "tell her I'm sorry I got them so worried."

The edge of Miss Avery's lips quirked into a one-sided smirk, almost sardonic. Quinn could tell that she could sense Quinn trying to edge her on. "I will." Formidable opponent.

Quinn let the quietness settled between them again and she counted to twenty in her head. When she reached twenty and Miss Avery still hadn't said a word, she stood up and smiled politely down at her still sitting English teacher. "Well, if that's all, I'll just go now. Since I've already got a pass, I'm thinking maybe I should catch a nap in Room 225."

"You could have called," Miss Avery uttered before Quinn could open the door. Quinn turned back around, looking at her teacher who was still sitting there but not looking at her. She was tapping her finger more rapidly now as she said, "One call and I wouldn't have spent the night worrying about you that I nearly popped a zit."

Quinn slinked back to her seat and sat down, muttering, "I'm sorry."

Miss Avery nodded in acceptance. "I did that once." Quinn glanced at her questioningly. "Run away. I nearly ran away from the orphanage, like literally. I had my bags packed and all that."

"Well, if you ask me, I think that's kind of much worse than what I did."

The teacher smiled and nodded again. "Totally." And then she turned to look at the blonde. "Which is why I'm not gonna yell at you or anything because I guess I understand your predicament." She stopped tapping the desk and shrugged. "You feel trapped, even after you've let out all your frustrations at your father. Somehow, yelling at your father didn't exactly help. In fact, it kind of did the opposite and made you feel more trapped than you've ever felt. The familiar surroundings were not helping. You feel that as long as you're seeing all these things that you  _know_ , you're never going to be able to escape. So you ran away for awhile, because you just  _needed_  that reprieve."

Quinn laughed, soundlessly and disbelievingly. Finally, someone who understood her without having her to explain it all. She started nodding rapidly, almost at the brink of excitement. But of course, out of all people, Miss Avery would be the one who had similar experience and would personally understand.

"That didn't mean I didn't completely lose sleep and in consequence, my girlfriend lost sleep too, because we were worried about you  _and_  Rachel," Miss Avery then said, shooting Quinn a disapproving look.

"Is Jemma really mad at me?" Quinn asked with a tiny wince.

"She felt that it wasn't fair of you to just run off and disappear without even a notice. Rachel came and they went into the guest bedroom for like one hour, I think she was crying for like half of that one hour." Quinn closed her eyes in regret. "But after I explained it to her, she wasn't that mad anymore. And after knowing you and Rachel aren't on the rocks anymore, she told me to tell you that you're coming over to dinner this Saturday."

"I'm grounded, actually," Quinn quickly said, pouting. "So I can't do Saturday."

Miss Avery stared at her for a moment; mouth slightly ajar, before she started bursting into loud guffaws

Quinn scowled. "You know, I'm pretty sure you've been grounded before," she complained.

"No, I haven't," Miss Avery said between peals of laughter. "I told you Phil was a really unorthodox parent, albeit an adoptive one."

The blonde groaned. She would have stomped her foot if she could. "That is so unfair."

Miss Avery's guffaws sobered into occasional breaks of giggles. "You deserve it so much."

Quinn stared at her, slight disbelief apparent on her face. "I can't believe you just said that laughing. It's like you're happy that I'm grounded."

"Well, I'm happy that it made me laugh."

Quinn rolled her eyes, shaking her head. And then she continued to banter with Miss Avery for the rest of the period because why not? She had a pass after all. It was only when Miss Avery invited her to dinner for the next Saturday did she realize that no longer did she see the woman as her teacher, Miss Avery was now her friend.

"Thank you for the pass,  _Skye_ ," she said, waving the paper in the air as she opened the door to the once again crowded hallway.

Miss Avery – wait,  _Skye_  – laughed and gave her a thumb up. "You finally got it right."

* * *

Santana had this thing about her. The girl literally  _knew_  if someone had gotten laid just by one glance. Sometimes, Quinn was quite certain that when Santana talked about this secret family magic thing, she wasn't actually lying. Nobody had any idea how she did it except Brittany. And as much as Brittany was huge secret spiller, she refused to yield on this. Quinn had tried to bribe her with Queen Tubbington – which Santana tried to club her for when she found out – but Brittany would not relent.

Queen Tubbington was now King David to a five year old child across the street. He kept insisting she was a male even when she evidently had no penis. She was slightly scared for the child's possibly misogynistic future.

So when they met up after school – Santana, Brittany, Finn and Puck wanted to come over for no reason at all – Santana took  _one_  look at her and then her eyes had widened and her lips were quirking into a leering smirk. Quinn cursed that skill of hers profusely in her head as she purposely avoided colliding with Santana and just met with Finn instead.

"Hey, Quinn!" Finn greeted, oblivious.

"Hey, Finn!" Quinn returned with almost as much enthusiasm.

"Glad you're alright," he said, pulling her into a one armed hug.

"Of course she's alright!" Santana joined in, her voice a little too happy for Quinn's taste. "She got laid!"

 _Fucking hell, Santana_ , her inner voice cursed as she sent a glare that could probably carry the same weight of curse and anger if glares were capable of such things. Honestly, at this point, Santana was already burned to crisp in her imagination.

Santana was either  _really_ oblivious – which she doubted – or pretending to not notice the glare Quinn was sending her way because in a moment, she was cupping Quinn's cheeks together and pushing them back and forth like she was kneading flour. "I am so proud of you," Santana exclaimed, her lips mushed together to make a babying voice.

Puck looked at her with enthusiasm and a sly grin. "For real, Q Fab?"

Quinn reluctantly said, "Yes." There really was no point denying it. Santana knew all, after all.

In a hurry, Puck shoved Santana aside and took the Latina's place. Quinn would not be blamed if he ended up losing both his hands for touching her the way Santana did. "Who is it?" he asked obtusely. Yeah, he could lose his hands for daring to ask that question too. "Someone I know?"

She rolled her eyes, grunting. She turned her back to them and made her way to her car, not even wanting to entertain her crazy friends. She cursed their stealth and athleticism when her doors opened and slammed in a chorus, indicating them all crammed in her car. Finn had claimed shotgun, thankfully.

"I'm not bringing you guys back when you're done loitering at my place," she snapped, starting the engine.

She watched Puck and Santana sending each other obvious looks through the reflection of the rearview mirror, and then smirked when Puck scrambled out of her car.

"Text me all the juice!" he yelled before slamming the door closed.

She sighed and shifted the gear so she could pull out of the parking lot. "What are you guys even going to do at my place?" she asked. Santana had just texted her during History that they were all heading to her place to hang out since she got grounded, followed by a few dozen random emojis that she was sure was the handiwork of Brittany.

"Well, I heard you got a pretty sick pool in your backyard," Santana implied.

"Okay, your girlfriend has a pool in her backyard too," Quinn then supplied.

"It's not as sick as yours," Brittany said.

Quinn rolled her eyes and then decided to direct her attention to Finn. "So why are you and Puck coming, Finn?" she asked.

"Santana said it's bonding time," Finn explained. "Not that Puck bought it but you know, he has an odd obsession with pools, so…" He shrugged with a noncommittal smile.

Quinn laughed in disbelief, pointing her gaze at Santana in the rearview mirror. " _Bonding time_?" It came out incredulous and skeptical. "You're kidding, right?"

Her best friend retracted her arm from being wrapped around Brittany and pushed through the gap between her and Finn's seat, completely blocking her view of the back roads in the rearview mirror. Santana didn't bother listening to her protest as she plunged on, "I miss you, Quinn Fabray. We all miss you. You gotta admit, you've been a little more than detached from us lately as you spend so much time with that Rachel lady of yours. We don't blame you. We're ecstatic for you because you've been on a dry spell for far too long. Still, we just wanna spend a little time with you."

As luck would have it, the lights turned red just as soon as she was about to speed past it. Her father had always said she was a dangerous driver. Quinn stepped on the brake pedal on emergence, causing them all to haul forward together and then recoil back. Puck honked from behind them.

"I seriously doubt if you didn't forge your driver's license at all," Finn said quietly from beside her as soon as Puck's honking stopped.

"I think that's also a direct translation of your good friend, Puckerman's honking just now," Santana commented.

Quinn snorted and shifted the gear before lifting her foot off the brake pedal. "Please, it's not like this is the first time you've seen me drive."

Santana made an exaggerated show of catching a breath and wiping sweat off her forehead. "So, when and where did it happen?"

"When and where did what happen?"

"Quinn, you may be dumb, but you're not that dumb," Brittany said.

Quinn made a face and held a finger in the air to prove her point. "I'll have you know that I have a higher SATs score than all of you." She made a circling motion within the space between them.

"You're going off topic," Santana said. "Come on, Fabray. Spill."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable listening to this conversation," Finn said, looking a little doubtful.

Quinn shot him a look of gratitude before gesturing at him. "See, Finn's not comfortable about it. I'm not talking about my sex life with you."

"So you  _do_ have a sex life!" Santana said triumphantly. Quinn kept mum. When the lights turned green, she pressed on the pedal as abruptly as she could to throw Santana back, the rest of them were just collateral damage. Santana was unfeigned. "Come on! I tell you about my sex life all the time!" Brittany's eyes lit up at that.

Quinn scoffed and her face twisted in disgust. "I wasn't even a voluntary listener!"

"To-may-toe, to-mah-toe."

* * *

She could tell Santana totally planned this whole thing early on after Santana pulled out her swimsuit from her backpack along with Brittany's. Mercedes was really unhappy about the sudden intrusion of four.

"I didn't cook enough!" she grumbled, glaring at Quinn who was completely innocent of it all. "Quinn, seriously?"

The blonde glared at her friends; not one of them was noble enough to stand out and disclaim Quinn from getting the blame. "You know, don't even bother with them. Let them starve," Quinn dismissed and ushered her friends upstairs to her room. "I'll be there in a sec." As soon as they disappeared from sight, she made a detour to the music room and listened. She smiled when she heard piano. She knocked on the door and took the piano's abrupt stop as the cue to open the door.

"See, I told you it's your girlfriend," Frannie's voice was the first thing she heard. She blushed.

"Um, she's your sister too," Rachel replied.

Quinn poked her head in as soon as the door open wide enough. Frannie was smirking while Rachel was only smiling perpetually.

"Alright, Quinn, you've seen her. You can leave now," Frannie said.

Quinn crinkled her nose at her sister and then looked at Rachel. "Hi."

Rachel laughed and waved. "Hi."

Frannie glanced between them repeated before throwing her hands in the air, grumbling, "Seriously?"

"They didn't give you any trouble, did they?" Quinn asked Rachel.

"Who?"

"My mom and my grandfather."

"Gramps summoned Rachel to meet him in the study later on," Frannie provided helpfully. "I think he has good intentions. Mom hasn't been home. She said that there's a lot to catch up on at work before Dad's surgery."

Quinn's eyes widened. "I'm gonna talk to Gramps."

"You do that and he'll find another chance to summon Rachel again. Just let him have this. You are his precious granddaughter after all," Frannie shot back.

"Spoken as if you aren't his granddaughter as well."

Frannie grinned and winked. "Go away, Quinn. You're interrupting my lesson and I have an important showcase Sunday before I go to Kaplan." Quinn opened her mouth but Frannie held one finger. "You'll get Rachel after this. I mean, if she survives the Grandpa Fred interrogation."

"Interro-what?" Rachel blurted.

The older Fabray winked at Rachel with a mysterious smile. And then she turned back to Quinn. "Get out."

Quinn huffed. "Fine, whatever." And then she asked, "Hey, do you think being grounded means I'm not allowed to bring friends over?" Because they had never ever been grounded before, both of them.

"You have friends over?"

"They invited themselves," Quinn quickly retorted, laying the blame on them.

Frannie's eyes turned upward as she considered the circumstances. "Well, I think that being grounded doesn't mean you can't bring friends over. I mean, you are  _still_  in the house, after all. It's not breaking any rules."

"Well, when I was your age and I was grounded, my parents were pretty pissed that I brought friends over," Rachel supplied. She'd been smirking enigmatically for as long as she and Frannie had been talking.

They stared at her for awhile before simultaneously waving her off and saying, "Your opinion is irrelevant." Then Quinn and Frannie's heads snapped to each other, staring at each other for the weird phenomenon that had just happened.

Rachel chuckled. "Nobody will ever doubt that you're sisters."

Quinn rolled her eyes and then gave her girlfriend a smile. "I'll catch you later."

Rachel hummed agreeably. With that, Quinn latched the door closed and skipped up the stairs, turning left down the hallway and walking along until she reached her room. She could hear Santana and Puck squabbling inside, with Finn and Brittany occasionally cutting in.

"That thing is obviously purple!" Puck screamed.

"No, it's fucking pink!"

"Dude, you better borrow Artie's glasses because are you freaking blind?"

" _You_  are the blind one! It's pink in color, alright?"

"Hey, Britt, what do you think is the color?"

"Cat."

"Um, why are we discussing the color of Quinn's underwear?"

* * *

"Unbelievable," she groused under her breath as she picked up the knick knacks around her room and stashed them all in her closet.

She could not believe they actually used their loud voices to discuss her fucking underwear. She glared at the aforementioned underwear and threw it into the pile of underwear she kept in a drawer. She picked up the scattering shorts and jeans on the floor and put them where they belonged as well.

"Savages," she complained again once she was sure there were no longer private items lying around the room.

The minute Puck had said the word, she twisted the knob on reflex and swung it open. Puck was holding the underwear in the air for everyone to see as he and Santana debated the color.  _Puck_  was holding the underwear. She would, of course, still be mad if it wasn't Puck holding it because  _god_ , they were discussing the color of her freaking underwear. But then the thought of  _Puck_  holding her underwear just incensed her more.

So she had stormed towards him and snatched it out of his grasp while Santana cackled while Finn grinned bemusedly. And then she'd promptly kicked them out of the room and made them go downstairs to the pool while she clean up her room.

Sure, she shouldn't have left her underwear lying around the room but  _seriously_? It was  _her_ room; she'll do whatever the hell she wanted to, including leaving her underwear hanging over her bedside lamp. Her friends should have known some boundaries and  _not_ touch her things, especially  _not_  Puck. God knows what the hell he'd used that hand for.

Quinn froze on her spot as the thought ran across her mind. Then she opened the closet door and snatched the underwear he'd been holding and ran downstairs to the laundry room where she threw it in the washing machine. She ran back upstairs to change into her swimsuit, draping a loose T-shirt over it before heading back downstairs.

"Never let it be said that you have uninteresting friends," were the first words Mercedes told her when she stepped into the kitchen where the door to the backyard was located.

Quinn's lips curled into a non-smile as she struggled between being flatted and insulted over that. "What did they do?" she asked, trying to keep the tone of complain out of her voice as much as possible.

"Well, Santana basically inhaled the meatloaf I kept in the fridge without even reheating it which is –" Mercedes made an impressed face "– impressive. They're nice. They're nice kids, but they're also quite bold. I mean, I think Brittany wanted to skinny dip but Santana stopped her. And Puck was basically humping the water – what does that do, I don't want to know – until Finn tugged him underwater."

"It's not the first time you've met them," Quinn said.

"Yes, which is why I said that never let it be said that you have uninteresting friends, because every time they're here, there are new things to discover about them. I would've resigned from the beginning if you were anything like Noah Puckerman."

Quinn laughed. "Puck would've taken that as a compliment. Hell, I think he'd try to go on a streak or something. Like bet with himself on how many housekeepers he'd be able to kick out and within how long."

Mercedes squinted and looked out the window at her friends frolicking in the pool. "Why do I have no doubt about that?" she muttered.

Quinn hooted a laugh, planted a kiss on Mercedes' cheek and headed out to join the group.

Suddenly, Finn came out of the water surface in abruption, causing the water ripple to spray out of the pool and on all of them. Santana and Brittany were interrupted from their make out session when the water droplets rained upon them. Quinn was lucky that she was not too near that she barely had any water sprayed upon her.

Puck was baffled for a second as his eyes stayed on Santana and Brittany. And then bouts of chicken-like cackles exploded within his chest as Santana's face quite literally reddened with fury.

Quinn wouldn't blame him really. The couple looked quite the spectacle. She could see they intended to keep themselves dry – pun unintended – for a moment longer as they were extremely engrossed with each other's lips, but then Finn had to ruin it all by attempting a model-like emergence from the pool – which completely failed. She concealed her slowly widening lips with her hand as she stifled her laughter.

She watched as Santana stand up from the lounge chair, stepping close to the edge of the pool as she shot daggers at Finn who looked more afraid than ashamed. He was trying to apologize but he should know by now that Santana rarely ever listen to anyone except Brittany when she was pissed off.

Just as the Latina was ready to leap into the pool to rain hell on the boy, Brittany pulled her back by telling her being drenched was nicer. Something about being easier to touch each other and slippery.

Quinn stopped listening, thinking it was too much for her to listen to, despite the fact that she'd known what it felt like to have sex and she totally understood why Santana was practically addicted to it. She laughed to herself as she pulled off her shirt and dipped into the pool.

She really couldn't ask for a better group of friends.

* * *

"Hey, Quinn."

She opened her eyes, lifted her chin from being nestled in her arms and turned from the ledge of pool, catching her arms on the ledge on both sides of her. Santana waded until they were close to each other. "What's up?"

Santana smirked and eyed over Quinn's shoulder before meeting her eyes again. "Your girlfriend's drooling," she said in a voice low enough for Quinn to be the only one who heard her.

Quinn frowned, perplexed for a second, before she caught onto Santana's eyes constantly shifting back from over her shoulder and to her and then back again. Quinn turned, following Santana's gaze and sure enough, Rachel was standing at the backdoor, one foot inside and the other outside, gaping at her. Frannie was standing behind Rachel, laughing quietly.

The older woman had one hand rested against the door panel, looking like she was using it for support so as to not drop into a mess right there. Her darkened eyes were unblinkingly concentrated on Quinn and her mouth was slightly ajar.

Quinn could feel a flush of heat rushing to her cheeks and gulped under Rachel's unashamed scrutiny. She turned back when she heard sniggers. Her friends were pretending to not notice whatever was transpiring but they were failing miserably.

"I think you better save Rachel from further embarrassment," Santana muttered and grinned slyly.

Quinn rolled her eyes and huffed at their pettiness. She twisted her head back around to meet Rachel's eyes and only did Rachel blink. Rachel took her other foot out into the open and she was nervously swiping her palms against her jeans as Frannie followed. Quinn smiled and hauled herself out of the pool, grabbing a clean towel and patting herself dry with it.

"I think you broke her," Frannie told Quinn once she reached within their earshot.

"I – I'm…I'm very unbroken, thank you very much!" Rachel protested, folding her arms across her chest.

Frannie raised a brow at the woman. "Sure," she said, evidently unconvinced before leaving the two of them alone by approaching the party at the pool.

Rachel huffed and diverted her attention to Quinn who had slung the towel over the back of her neck. Her eyes roamed downwards and Quinn watched as she gulped before she looked back up. Rachel shook her head and closed her eyes. "I can't focus with you wet like that," she croaked.

Did she look like a fire truck right now? Quinn sure felt like a fire truck right now. If only there was a mirror, then she'd be able to see if her skin was burning red. "Rachel, you've seen me naked," she said with a nervous laugh.

Rachel's eyes snapped open. "Exactly," she whispered helplessly and she made a helpless gesture at Quinn. "And now I want you naked more because you just came out of the pool and I mean, you're  _glistening_!"

Quinn grinned, flattered. She went back to retrieve the loose shirt she'd discarded just now and pulled it over herself, though the wet state of her body only made her shirt stick to her body. She sighed and went back to her girlfriend. "Is this okay?"

Rachel licking her lips was a direct indication that it wasn't much improvement. "I'm pretty sure your parents and your grandfather would not appreciate us having sex on your first day of being grounded," she said weakly.

Okay, Quinn was sure she'd be blushing the whole day if Rachel kept talking like that. She shook her head meekly and winced. "I'm sure they won't appreciate us having sex  _ever_."

"Understandable." Rachel nodded and exhaled in a whoosh. She plowed ten fingers through her brown tresses and looked up pleadingly at Quinn. "Can I at least kiss you?"

Quinn giggled and stepped forward, cupping Rachel's face in her hands. "I thought you'd never ask."

" _Lucy Quinn, you can gauge a person's love for you by how much they're willing to do just to be with you. And if that person will settle for just a kiss or a touch, you need to_ _ **keep**_ _them._ "


	24. Chapter 24

"I want to play with you."

Quinn stared at her sister from the top of the book she was reading, aghast. And then she blinked and offered a sheepish smile. "Okay, that sounds kind of dirty," she said slowly.

Frannie narrowed her eyes and then widened them again when she realized Quinn's indication. Her jaw dropped and she sputtered. "Wha-Quinn Fabray, get your freaking mind out of the gutter!" Quinn grinned. "God, you get worse after you've had sex."

Quinn held up a hand to stop her. "Hey, I thought we're done talking about  _my_ sex life," she said in a warning tone.

"You started it," Frannie spat. Quinn stuck her tongue out immaturely and raised her brow. "I meant I want to play the piano with you. Like both of us, at the piano, making music."

They stared at each other for awhile, Quinn trying to gauge her sister's motives. "You sure?" she finally sought.

Frannie frowned in confusion. "Why wouldn't I?"

Quinn blinked and then nodded, clearing her throat nervously. "When do you want to do it?"

"Now."

" _Now_?" She almost gasped.

Frannie nodded enthusiastically with a shrug. "Why not?"

"Where's Dad? And Mom? And Gramps?"

"In the music room, waiting for you."

"Wait, you  _planned_ this?" She could hardly believe her sister.

"Rachel suggested it."

" _Rachel_?"

"Yeah, she's down there waiting as well." The way Frannie voiced those words sounded as if the plain mention of Rachel would be able to convince her. "Come on, I just want to play with you. I have never done that."

"I can't believe you guys," Quinn whispered in mock horror as she pulled the covers back and slowly slid off bed. She smiled reluctantly when Frannie pumped her fist in the air triumphantly. "Is Daddy actually okay with this?"

Frannie winced and smiled sheepishly. "Well, he definitely wasn't happy when he found out Rachel was the one who suggested it." Quinn made a face that said  _figures_. " _But_  he was completely okay with it when I told him I wanted to do it as well. I think they're pretty stoked about it."

"Daddy? Stoked?" Quinn scoffed.

Frannie nudged at her shoulder disapprovingly. "I thought we're past this."

"Well, I just can't imagine Daddy being'stoked'," Quinn hand quoted.

"Be quiet."

Quinn stuck her tongue out as they slowly walked down the stairs side by side. They stopped outside the music room as Quinn stared at it, the first bead of perspiration forming on her forehead. "You sure about this?" she asked again.

"Hey." Quinn looked at Frannie who smiled at her reassuringly. "It's just you and I, playing the piano for our family."

Quinn sighed and nodded, gulping. And then she twisted the knob and pushed it open. Her parents and grandfather were all cramped into the couch. Rachel was sitting on a chair purposely dragged into the music room for her. A grin appeared on Rachel's face as she entered the room. Quinn gave her a look before meeting her parents' eyes. Her father was, as usual, expressionless while her mother was beaming. Her grandfather was smiling.

"Hi," she greeted lamely.

"We can't wait for this!" Judy said enthusiastically as she gently clapped her hands.

Quinn hesitantly offered a smile before sitting at the piano next to Frannie. She stared down at the keys, watched as Frannie braced her hands on the piano. She lifted her eyes to meet her sister's encouraging ones. She lifted her hands, hovering over the keys, not really touching them.

She couldn't believe she was doing this. The only person she'd ever played for was Rachel since she restarted. Sure, Frannie had eavesdropped one time but that didn't count. And now, she was actually going to play for her family –  _her father_ , who had been so unsupportive for the five years.

"Hey," Rachel's voice drifted into her ears. She looked back slightly to see Rachel had closed the distance between them, standing directly behind her and leaning down so she could speak into Quinn's ear. "You have nothing to be nervous about."

Somehow, Quinn found it quite hard to believe.

"Your father is  _very_  eager to hear you, even though he doesn't show it."

Really?

"I wouldn't lie to you, Quinn."

Now that was just plain unfair. She groaned inwardly and nodded, rolling her eyes at her weak composure, before joining her sister on the keys. She could literally feel Rachel retreat back to her seat.

"What do you wanna play?" Frannie asked before Quinn could.

Quinn browsed through all the pieces she'd memorized into her head before she stopped at one. " _The Light_."

Her father muttered, "What's that?" behind her.

Quinn allowed a smile to stretch out on her face before sobering up again. She placed her fingers on the starting keys and turned to her sister who had done the same. Frannie was excited; Quinn could see from the twinkles in her eyes and the elated smile on her face. To be frank, Quinn had wanted to play with Frannie for quite some time now. Even though Rachel always claimed that her sister would never be as good as her, Quinn was still convinced that Frannie was pretty much awesome.

Without even having to say it, they began simultaneously. It was somewhat awkward in the beginning but the two sisters quickly found their flow and they were able to play with joy and relaxation. Never had Quinn imagine she could feel so liberated and fun when she played but as Frannie accompanied her right next to her, she didn't feel the tiny loneliness she usually felt when she was playing.

She felt oddly enriched. The music was slow and paced; the flow surged through her body like smooth dark chocolate – bitter in the beginning but sweet in the end. The way Frannie played was delightful. Frannie had never performed with the tension that Quinn had displayed five years ago. Quinn had always felt so pressured and stressed that it was mechanical and stiff. Frannie, on the other hand, didn't play like that.

That part, Frannie had excelled in.

She found herself utterly immersed in the music and the company and the synchronization that she almost forgot the time. She was just  _playing_  and  _playing_  along with the tune in her head and she was just enjoying the way their fingers just managed to find harmony with one another.

The ending was smooth and gradual. When their fingers had pressed the last notes, she could still hear the hum in her ears. She stared down at their pale fingers, all twenty of them laid out on the black and white. Had they really just do that? Had they really just performed with such audacity and clarity?

She slowly lifted her head to meet her sister's gaze and wasn't surprised to see that Frannie's eyes were a little red and moisturized, because she was sure her own eyes weren't much better. Her chest heaved in a chuckle, instantly joined by Frannie.

"Amazing," Frannie managed to force out in a whisper.

Quinn could only nod in agreement before pulling her sister in a tight hug as they remained seated on the bench.

She only started to remember that they had an audience when Judy and Rachel started clapping. She released Frannie from her arms and twisted in her seat slightly to see them all staring at her and Frannie with a mixture of awe and incredulity. She could barely stop herself from laughing as she looked at her grandfather's face. It was priceless.

She felt genuine warmth flooding her heart when she traced her gaze to Russell, who was remotely still in his place but the praise in his similarly green eyes was hard to miss. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

Rachel, though, she carried the most invaluable face of them all. She'd seen it so many times: the love and adore reflected all over her, but she couldn't ever grow tired of it. Or maybe she could, just not now. Now, as they looked at each other from the short distance between them, the energy was hot and electrifying. Rachel was just staring at her with that tender smile on her face and that look in her eyes.

Right then, the pull to just go and kiss the life out of the woman was stronger than ever.

 _I love you_ , they were basically screaming at each other.

"Hey." She turned to see her sister. "You were incredible just now."

"You were too."

Frannie shook her head adamantly. "No, you were like a…" Frannie clicked her tongue, wincing in frustration as she attempted for the right word. "You were like a peacock thriving and it honestly scared me when I was playing with you! You were so awesome!"

"Frannie," Quinn started.

"No, she's right," Russell voiced from the couch. They turned to him – she in surprise and Frannie with glee. Russell offered a strained smile and shrugged one shouldered. "You gave a tremendous performance and we –" he gestured at the occupants of the couch and Rachel " – were utterly amazed."

Grandpa Fred nodded agreeably. "It's a shame that things had to go this way," he said regretfully. "You would've had a great career."

"It's not what I want to be," Quinn immediately responded. "I love playing. I do. But my true passion lies with writing."

"We are proud of you all the same, Quinnie," Judy said.

Quinn's smile broadened into a gleeful grin.

* * *

 _Graduation – 8am. Frannie's showcase – 5pm._ Her clear and precise handwriting were scribbled on the date on her calendar.  _Today_. She hadn't gone to sleep. She couldn't. She guessed she was nervous, but her heart wasn't pumping and her palms weren't sweaty so she guessed she wasn't  _that_  nervous. But still, she couldn't sleep.

It led her to spending all night trolling Reddit and Tumblr and watching silly bird videos on YouTube. At one point, she even fell off her chair because she was laughing too hard at one of the videos. Whoever said that laughing would relieve stress, thus allowing her to sleep better deserved to be in hell, because she found herself more energized than ever.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," Frannie commented first thing when she made her first appearance in the dining room.

Quinn rolled her eyes, taking her seat next to Grandpa Fred. She had to admit, her movements were sluggish. She'd never been so grateful for Mercedes and coffee when the woman put a cup of the liquid right in front of her. She grinned and instantly lifted the cup to her lips, downing it all in one go. And then Mercedes refilled the cup.

"You're a godsend, Mercedes," she appreciated between chews of breakfast, causing her to sound unclear.

"I know," Mercedes answered good-naturedly before retreating back into the kitchen.

"How do you feel about graduation, Quinn?" Grandpa Fred asked and then fed himself a chunk of omelet.

Quinn sighed. "Nervous, I guess."

"Yeah, I felt that way too." Yeah, they all knew about Frannie's nervousness. How could they not when she was so nervous that she made a spectacle by tripping down the steps when climbing onto the stage? "But you all didn't need to know that." Quinn snickered. " _Hey_ –" Frannie thrust her fork in Quinn's direction "– you might do worse today."

"Oh that's a confidence booster. Thank you very much," Quinn responded with her ever present sarcasm.

"I'll be there to record everything."

"Hey, Mom, didn't we keep the recording of Frannie falling down somewhere?"

* * *

She flipped the mortarboard in her hands over and over, reluctant to pull it on. There was only noise around her, people weeping and laughing and saying goodbyes. They hadn't even begun the ceremony yet. Quinn flipped it one last time and stared at the hole that was going to fit on her head.

She looked around her and forced a grin when she met a friend's eyes and they started talking to her. She kept it up. They all had their mortarboards on. They didn't even realize that her hair was still pretty bare. She looked around her, at the smiling and crying faces that she'd been seeing for the last four years. She even saw some unfamiliar faces which she was quite surprised at because honestly, she'd been around these people for four years.

She lurched when an arm encircled around her neck and held her in a friendly chokehold. Then she looked up to see Santana grinning down at her, Brittany next to her. They didn't have their mortarboards on as well.

"Aw, what's with the long face, Quinnie?" Santana asked, mimicking a baby voice and pouting her lips.

Quinn huffed and slithered out of Santana's chokehold, standing upright again. "There's no long face, Santana," she dismissed.

Santana smirked. "I know you, Q. You had a very long face."

"Yours is longer than hers, San," Brittany mentioned, literally measuring their faces' lengths by holding one hand above their heads and the other on their chins.

Quinn grinned smugly and cocked a triumphant brow at Santana. "See?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever." And then she gestured around the room, at the scene that Quinn had just been taking in with much reluctance and longing. "We're never gonna be able to experience this again, are we?" she sighed. Quinn nodded quietly. "I mean, sure, there's college but –" Santana turned back around and stared at her sadly "- it's just never gonna be the same."

Quinn shook her head. "No, it's not." Santana had said the exact things Quinn had been thinking of the past fifteen minutes since they entered the room to get ready.

For a couple of short seconds, Santana had the same expression that Quinn had carried on her face as she looked around the room. She was also trying to imprint as much of this image in her head as she could, so she'd never forget the friendships, the fights, the enemies, the camaraderie she'd built with the people in this room.

And then that face was gone, replaced by Santana Lopez's resident smirk. She flipped her mortarboard once before putting it on, adjusting the peak and cocking her hip as she looked at herself in the mirror. "Well, damn, I look good." Quinn scoffed. Santana then linked an arm with Quinn and held Brittany by the waist with another. "Whatever happens, we'll always stick together. Starting together, ending together, am I right?"

Brittany nodded, putting on her mortarboard as well. "Damn right."

Quinn laughed; glad that at least she wouldn't lose these people. "Damn right." She put on her mortarboard.

* * *

She would never ever trust movies or TV shows based in high schools anymore. It was so freaking hot. And there were apparently more than two hundred students before they reached the letter F. She could only be so glad that they didn't distribute the diplomas according to the alphabetical order of first names because she'd get a heatstroke.

Quinn literally whooped with joy when her name was shouted, eliciting simultaneous laughter and groans from her future ex-classmates and the audience. She walked upstairs, careful with her steps so she wouldn't repeat the Frannie Fabray infamous trip down the evil steps last year. She sighed in relief quietly to herself when she reached the top of the stage and stood upright, glancing smugly at her sister who gave her a mocking thumb up.

She then saw her family all standing on their feet, cheering for her. She vaguely heard her name being called from the very front of the seats and looked for the source until she saw Rachel and Jemma seated there. Skye was sitting on stage, since she was part of the faculty. Jemma carried a banner that actually said  _'Yay, Quinn!_ ' while Rachel was waving a rainbow flag.

Talk about attracting attention to themselves.

Principal Figgins handed over the scroll with his signature creepy smile that was actually just his nice guy smile. "Congratulations, Miss  _Fah-bray_ ," he offered – and who could ever forget his constant mispronunciation of her last name?

She smiled in return, accepting the scroll. "Thank you, Principal Figgins," she said, staring at the scroll in awe. They stood there, each holding one end of the scroll, posing for the camera.

Before he sent her off, he said, "I look forward to your speech later."

Oh yes, her valedictorian speech. She could feel the crumpled paper on which her speech was scribbled on burning in her pocket.

Quinn Fabray's valedictorian speech had been written at the last minute – two hours before the graduation ceremony.

After hours upon hours of losing sleep and trolling Reddit and watching bird videos on YouTube, she'd finally got herself a piece of paper and a blue ballpoint pen. And then she'd spent another fifteen minutes tapping the butt of the pen against the paper, the cap of the pen firmly held between her teeth.

She couldn't come up with a  _thing_. She was tempted to rouse up the whole house to help her with it, but then it wouldn't be a genuine speech she wrote on her own and what would that say of her who wanted a future in writing? And then – swearing to herself that she wasn't cheating at all – she typed in 'graduation speech examples' in the Google search engine. Numbers of examples showed up on screen, she'd clicked on the top one and read over the examples offered.

And then she went to writing, generic and typical stuff people would say in a graduation speech. She'd felt that it was too dull and wasn't really her style at all, but then she couldn't come up with anything and she was dead tired and she just figured whatever.

Now, as she stood on stage, the microphone ready for her in front of her, the paper laid out in front of her with creases and smudges and crosses, she wasn't sure if this was what she wanted to leave as her legacy. This was the last time she could say something.

This definitely wasn't it.

So she clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes at herself for a bit before crumpling the paper into a small ball, muttering, " _Screw it_." Little did she know that the mic was close enough to catch that, which meant everyone could hear her.

She could hear the distinct outburst of cackles from Santana and Puck praising her from among the seats; the disbelieving gasps of conservative parents; the following laughter from her fellow classmates; the knowing snorts from Rachel and Frannie. She laughed nervously and partly apologetically, throwing the paper ball behind her, not caring where it landed.

"Oh my god," Skye muttered from behind.

Quinn turned back just to see the ball bounce off of Figgins' head and land on his lap. He gave her an unamused look. The teachers around were failing at stifling their snickers.

"I am so sorry," she said, loud enough for the mic to catch it again. This time, the entire audience laughed. She winced and mouthed those words at the principal again before facing the front again. She shrugged, laughing nervously. "Well, I guess since tripping down the stairs is my sister's legacy, this can be mine," she started. The laughter grew more raucous. She took a deep breath and braced her hands at the edges of the podium.

"I'll be honest, I'm practically surviving off a shit ton of caffeine right at this very second because I couldn't sleep at all last night." A chorus of agreements followed. "And well, that speech I wrote two hours before this ceremony was practically crap so I'm not going to read that." She smiled briefly before exhaling sharply. "It has been a great four years, you guys," she began with a nod, scanning the crowd. "I know that some of you might not know me that well and some of you do. I may not talk to some of you as much as I talk to the others but I have enjoyed every single second of it.

"I mean, those of you in Miss Avery's class must know that I'm the resident latecomer. Thank god I'm her favorite student." The graduates laughed, including Skye. "And who can forget Jacob Ben Israel who is so dedicated to his gossip blog that he's become an actual creep of the school? Respect, JBI." She saluted him, her fingers tipping off her mortarboard. "By the way, aren't we all glad that Noah Puckerman did not manage to knock up  _any_  of the girls he slept with?"

"Yeah!" Finn yelled from beneath, echoed by a bunch of other boys and girls. Puck who knew no shame just smirked and made a sawing motion with his hand.

"Alright, enough with the jokes. Let's get to business." She wiped off the teasing smile on her face and began to really address her soon-to-be former classmates. She straightened and cleared her throat. "I want you all to know that each and every one of  _you_  –" She stared pointedly at them "– is worth it. Even if you've barely passed the SATs, that doesn't mean you're not worthy. Even if I'm the one who scored 2320 and the valedictorian standing up here today, it doesn't mean you're not worthy.

"Yes, I may be good in my academics, but that doesn't mean I'm the best. I mean, I can't cook for the life of me. But I know that some of you can bake a mean crème brulee. And I hate calculus, but Santana Lopez  _kills_ it. We are all, every one of us, a mash up of endless talents, and we should never shrink back from an opportunity to expand on it. Go to a cooking school if you're good in the kitchen. Get a degree in photography if you love taking pictures.

"My point is,  _chase your dreams._ Don't give up. Never give up until you have it within your grasp. It doesn't matter that it might take you years or even decades to grab it. What matters is that you don't give up on them." She licked her lips and softened. "Because if you give up, if you sigh and decide that it's not worth it, it means you have nothing to live for anymore in your life. And that's just not okay.

"You did not spend the last four years coming to McKinley and going to AP classes to give up on your dreams. You did not go through Mr. Anderson's nightmarish chemistry classes just so you could be a hobo in the subway station." The graduates laughed and she grinned. "You did not survive 17 years to say no and just become a nobody.

"As long as you have a dream, as long as you don't give up on that dream and on yourself, you  _are_  a somebody. If you fall, get back up. Fall again. Get back up again. Don't stop getting back up, because life is nothing without falling and getting back up."

Her eyes then reached Rachel and her smile was genuine and pure this time. "I gave up once. Five years ago, something happened and I gave up. For five years, I was a shell and a shadow. I was insignificant. And then someone came into my life and she guided me to hold on to that dream once again." Rachel smiled in return and ducked her head in embarrassment.

"To end this thing, I will tell you one more thing. Let yourself love and be loved. Let yourself dream and be dreamed. Let yourself  _be_. Let your freak flag fly! Thank you!"

The entire place erupted into outraged applause. She got a standing ovation. Literally everyone jumped on their feet and clapped their hands for her. She laughed in disbelief and bowed at them before stepping back from the podium. Skye stepped in front of her with a silly grin and she found herself enveloped into a hug by her teacher.

"That was by far the best valedictorian speech I've ever heard in my entire lifetime!" she squealed.

Quinn laughed. "Thank you! Now, if you'll excuse me," she glanced over Skye's shoulder to see Rachel patiently waiting down there, "I have someone to kiss."

She pulled away from Skye and didn't even bother taking the stairs to get down. She just climbed off the edge of the stage and ran towards Rachel, knocking her into a bear hug. Rachel laughed and hugged her back.

"That was a great speech."

Quinn pulled back and said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And then, without a care of an audience or the people around them wanting to congratulate her, she kissed Rachel.

" _Lucy, you have a long life ahead of you. You must do whatever you have to, to be what you imagine your life to be. Or else, there is no meaning to it at all."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that speech was a nightmare to write.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter, guys. at last. i feel kind of sad that this is the end, but this is also the appropriate way to end this story.
> 
> this is not just a love story. yes, it revolves around Quinn and Rachel but it is much more than that. this is about Quinn's growth and maturity and her trying to find her away in a room of complete darkness. i'll be honest, i guess i incorporated a lot of myself into Quinn. i am a very unhappy person, i'm still trying to work around my issues. i have major daddy issues, but it's mostly on me. i have mommy issues too. i have parental issues, in general. and i guess i've poured a lot of my emotions into Quinn's many monologues with everyone in this story. this story is a way for me to express myself. it kind of worked, but i still have much more to work through.
> 
> i can't tell you how invigorated i am to know that this story has managed to help so many people, namely LaurenKnight13. your reviews are often - if not always - the best. it makes me feel proud of myself that i've managed to help some people with this story. so yeah, if you feel this story is helpful, i'm happy for you.
> 
> anyway, that's the end of this really long authors' note. thank you to everyone who's loved and supported and reviewed and favorited this story. i can't thank you enough. this will probably be my last faberry fic, just so you know, unless i find inspiration for another again. i may write a monologue. i will definitely compile a list of grandma's quotes for you guys. it'll take time though cuz i'm pretty busy with college right now.
> 
> now, read, ponder and enjoy.
> 
> p.s. i definitely do not have such a wise person like Grammy in my life.

Quinn was a self-admitted reckless driver. Everyone who'd sat in the same car as her would say the same. But even so, she still wasn't Vin Diesel or Paul Walker. She couldn't race – well, not yet – which was why she ended up nearly prohibited from entering the music hall if it wasn't for Rachel sweet-talking the guard and helping her in.

"You're early," Rachel commented sarcastically, her lips twitched into an amused smirk.

Quinn rolled her eyes and groaned pointedly. "I don't wanna talk about it. I tried my best to get here as early as possible."

"Better late than never, isn't it?"

They stopped at one row where her family was seated. They left a seat for her next to her father. He was staring up at her questioningly. She sat herself down and expected Rachel to sit down in the row as well, only to see her walking further down the stairs. Quinn stopped her by holding onto her hand, temporarily forgetting that her father was sitting next to her.

Rachel turned to her, seeing the askance look Quinn was sending her. "I booked my seat down there. Don't worry. I'll join you later." Rachel glanced cautiously at the man next to Quinn before patting Quinn's hand and walking away.

"You're late." She looked to her never-not-blunt father. "How can you be late to your own sister's showcase?"

He sounded frustrated and impatient and anxious. All of those rolled into his low and stern voice equalled scary. If this was a situation happening one year or more ago, she would have cowered and stayed quiet like a mouse. But now, since their confrontation and their long talk and them laying it all out on the table, she was no longer afraid of him.

And that was the best thing ever.

"I'll explain everything to you later," she coolly replied, meeting his eyes. He sighed, crossed his arms and looked back to the front just as the lights dimmed and the curtains drawn.

She brushed her hair back and watched as a young boy with ebony skin and curly hair stroll out from the left of the stage, dressed to the nines like a mini pianist. He stopped in front of the gleaming Yamaha piano – she would know because she'd played that thing for a long time – and bowed. And then he crawled his way up the bench.

Her eyelids fluttered close as the first string of melody drifted towards the audience, slithering into her ears and triggering her eardrums with its soft rhythm. Brought back to the time when she first started playing in a showcase, a little younger than the boy, her lips quirked into a nostalgic smile. The excitement; the jitters; the addiction of playing the musical instrument; they were all still deeply imprinted into her memories.

Once upon a time, she was such an enthusiastic kid, so enthused to play the piano for the crowd to hear, to make her father proud. The dress she wore was sunshine yellow with laces sewn onto the shoulders. Her father had praised her to be a beautiful girl and bought her lollipop to lessen the nerves she felt.

Her lids lifted in a gentle motion and she subtly turned to look at the man, who was attentively watching the boy play with a small frown and his head tipped forward. There was no way to deny that he used to be warm and charming and he never shied away from showing his love for her. She couldn't remember when he started to become cold and distant, so adamant on her being the best of the best. She could remember, though, the sweets and the laughter and the piggyback rides when she was exhausted.

Despite all the emotional damage he'd inflicted upon her, she couldn't deny that she wouldn't replace her father with anyone else.

Her lips widened into a loving one and she shifted closer to her father, lacing her arm through the crook of his elbow and laying her head on his shoulder. She ignored his sudden tenseness and snuggled into his warmth. She inhaled and smiled wider as the unique scent of her father filled her nostrils. She hummed pleasurably when he relaxed and moved closer to her as well.

God knows how many other musicians playing a variety of instruments – trumpet, violin, cello, you name it – Frannie Fabray finally emerged behind the curtains. Quinn stifled a snort at the outfit she was sporting: a blue blouse with a pair of white trousers. Her mother was possibly blowing a gasket next to Russell right now.

As if she could sense Quinn's hidden mirth, Frannie looked straight at her from above the stage, smirking and glaring at the same time. Quinn grinned. Frannie bowed and then went to the piano. Quinn lifted her head from her father's shoulder to pay full attention to her sister's final showcase.

When Frannie hit her first key, it came out confident and sure. Quinn's teasing grin turned into a proud one as she watched her sister play flawlessly, without pause or uncertainty. It was like Frannie Fabray understood the meaning behind this performance – the last time she would ever perform on this stage – and she was whipping out her best performance to wow the crowd for the last time.

Well, consider them wowed.

Quinn averted her gaze to search for Rachel and she smirked when she saw the gob smacked expression on the woman's face. Quinn mentally sent the message:  _You were a part of this amazingness_. She was going to say it right to Rachel's face later but right now, she was going to tell Rachel this mentally, even though Rachel couldn't hear her.

Not two seconds later, Rachel's head turned, meeting her eyes over the rows of seats separating them. There was a shimmer of tears in her eyes and her lips were extended into a vivacious smile. The look in her eyes though, it was like Rachel could hear her thoughts even though she didn't say it out loud.

Quinn's mouth opened in shock a little as she shared eye contact with Rachel.

 _I wish it were you_ , she heard in her mind and she stifled her gasp.

She covered her mouth with her palm as her eyes welled up with surprised tears. She swallowed, removed her hand and displayed gentle smile.  _This is enough_.

Rachel's chest deflated, like she was sighing.  _I love you._

_I love you too._

* * *

She cut her mother in line and rushed over to her sister who was finally walking out from backstage and threw her arms around her. Frannie made a noise in surprise and hugged her back. Quinn laughed into Frannie's ear and kissed the side of her cheek.

"You were wonderful up there," she mused.

Frannie laughed. "I wish you were up there with me."

Quinn shook her head, pulling away from Frannie and going from holding her body to her hands. "I wouldn't want to steal your spotlight."

"I wouldn't mind you stealing my spotlight," Frannie naturally replied with a wink.

"Alright, we all know you're the closest sisters on Earth but some of us want to hug the star of the evening as well," her grandfather's impatient but teasing voice interrupted their banter.

Quinn shot them an apologetic look and stepped back to let her mother take her place. She went to stand next to Rachel who was just staring at her sister with pride. "You are quite a marvelous tutor," she commented softly, her eyes on her sister and her mother talking to each other.

Rachel hummed. "It wouldn't happen if she didn't have the talent for it."

Quinn chuckled, amused at her girlfriend's humility that never seemed to have a limit. She wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulders and planted a prolonged kiss on her cheek, leaving a faint mark of pink on her tanned skin. When she drew back, Rachel's eyes were widened in surprise – probably at her blatant display of affection.

She looked up to see Russell staring at them with a slight struggle in his eyes. At least he didn't burst into a raging monster and demand that they stay away from each other. She watched as he inhaled deeply, getting rid of the look in his eyes and look at her.

"So why were you late today?" he queried.

She bit her lip and turned her head to see that everyone had already finished with their hugging and congratulating and were all staring at her with their full attention. "Well, Santana wanted to leave a mark of the Unholy Trinity before we officially leaves the school."

"Unholy what?" Frannie muttered.

"The Unholy Trinity," Quinn clarified. "That's Brittany, Santana and I call us."

"Is it necessary to call yourself Unholy?" Judy mourned.

"Santana came up with it," Quinn explained and their faces loosened in understanding at that. She couldn't not chuckle at that hilarious reaction. "Okay, this is a little bit on the wrong side of the law so are you sure you want to listen to this?" She winced as her mother's jaw dropped and her father's stony face almost twisted with rage. She stopped herself from smacking Rachel when the woman made a quiet snort. "It's nothing big."

"Let me guess. Vandalism?" Russell predicted.

Quinn nodded vigorously, thrusting a hand in his direction. "That's it. That's just it. It's nothing big. I'm sure you've all done the same when you graduated high school."

"I don't wanna hear it," Russell declared. "I'm not even going to try to forbid you from seeing Santana again because I know it'll never work." He started walking away, his hands behind his back.

"Like I always said, Daddy knows best."

"You never said that," he threw over his back. Frannie burst out laughing while Quinn pouted. "And you're still grounded."

* * *

Being grounded on the day you graduate was not fun. Quinn received tons of texts that night from numerous people – people she was familiar with and people she was  _not_ familiar with (god knows how they got her number) – all asking her why she didn't come followed by about two dozen question marks and twenty dozen exclamation points.

What made it worse was the drunk dial she got from Santana at two in the morning. She wasn't really annoyed at the drunk dial; what she was annoyed at was the sounds she heard from the drunk dial – or butt dial, she couldn't care less. She had listen to the moans and the whispers for a good two minutes before she finally understood what was happening and she instantly hung up the phone, grunting in displease.

She hadn't had sex in almost a week! She was almost flinging herself out the window in frustration and there her best friend was, enjoying the very thing Quinn was deprived of like there was no tomorrow.

Santana wasn't even the least bit mortified when Quinn called her and told her about it the next day. In fact, the girl's actual words were: " _Well, that'll at least give you motivation to live through the next two days_." Safe to say, Quinn hung up just as Santana was doing her evil cackles into the speaker.

On Monday – the day she regained her freedom at last – she practically flounced down the stairs with a big grin. Her sister smirked when she saw her entering the dining room, followed by amused smiles from her mother and grandfather. Her father was carrying a stony face as usual.

"So, Quinn, what do you have planned for today?" Russell asked, closing the newspaper he was reading and putting on his side on the table. He clasped his hands, propping his elbows on the table. "Seeing Rachel, by any chance?"

"Yes," she responded easily. She wasn't going to hide anything from him anymore. She'd had experience in that and it didn't feel so good. "Well, tonight actually," she corrected.

Russell frowned while Judy appeared a little unnerved at that information. "Why?"

"Miss Avery – Skye – she's invited me over to her house for dinner. And she's friends with Rachel. So I'm gonna see Rachel at Skye's place tonight." Her family members were all practically frowning in confusion. Quinn sighed, already partly giving up because this was going to be quite the long story. So she concluded with, "It's a long story."

"We have time," Grandpa Fred almost immediately responded. Quinn shot him a dirty look. He only smiled and waved for her to continue.

And so Quinn launched into a story with which she didn't know how to shorten of how she became Skye's favorite student and how she kind of crushed on Skye and then she met Rachel and Skye's priceless advices on how to deal with her emotions and Skye's girlfriend and how Rachel knew Jemma which would mean her knowing Skye as well and how Skye has become a dear friend and that Quinn had been invited over for dinner because Skye's girlfriend insisted on it.

Mercedes had, at some point, joined them at the other end of the dining table, standing behind the chair. And after a long-winded explanation that left her breathless, they were all carrying a variety of expression – all of them in the category of disbelief and shock. She just sat there, casually eating her breakfast, giving them time to process the whole slew of information she just relayed.

She didn't blame them. She had difficulties understanding her life at times.

"Never let it be said that you had an uninteresting life," was the only thing her grandfather had to say after around ten minutes of stunned silence.

"I want to meet these people," her father voiced, as if Grandpa Fred had given them permission to speak by speaking himself.

Judy immediately nodded quite aggressively, her eyes alight with excitement. "Yes, yes, me too."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Which people?"

"Your teacher, your teacher's girlfriend and your girlfriend who's best friends with your teacher's girlfriend," Russell piped off with no difficulties.

Quinn almost leaped up with pride at her father for being able to word that statement without so much as a sign of revulsion. Improvement! She bit her lip to keep back from smiling and made a small nod.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good."

* * *

Oh dear. She was too late. By the time Quinn made it to the top of the stairs, her father was already standing at the front door. She could see from his side profile that he was considering Rachel with what they would call 'the evil eye'. She felt pity for Rachel for being subjected to this routine.

"Dad, stop intimidating Rachel," she called as she skipped down the stairs two steps at a time.

She shot an apologetic look at an obviously relieved Rachel as she pulled her father away by the forearm. He just grunted; cast Rachel another look before looking at Quinn.

"Back at no later than eleven," he instructed, raising his finger to emphasize his seriousness.

"I'm eighteen!" she stressed.

He just moved his finger closer to her face, an eyebrow raised – once again, she was reminded of where she got that from. "No later than eleven," he insisted. And he spun on his heels, ignoring his youngest's noise of irritation.

"Look at the bright side." She turned to her girlfriend who still looked slightly stricken from the scary experience ten seconds ago. "At least he's letting you go with me."

"He didn't threaten your life or anything, did he?"

Rachel laughed at that, her nervousness dissipated by half. "Honey, your father might be intimidating and scary but he's no murderer," she said, tugging Quinn to her by her hands at the same time. "Don't worry. I'll get used to it."

Quinn huffed. She reached up to brush aside a strand of Rachel's loose hair. "He'll soften to you," she retorted.

"Either way," Rachel replied, "you're not gonna be rid of me anytime soon." Quinn grinned at that, biting her lip at the same time. "Anyway, we should get going. Or Skye's gonna give us a lot of crap for being late."

"She's already giving us crap," Quinn grumbled, but grabbed her jacket and boots from the walk-in closet anyway. She steadied herself by holding onto Rachel's shoulder to slip her feet into her boots.

"Which is why I could do a day without her giving us crap."

Quinn scoffed, a sardonic smile on her face. She shook her head as she pulled on her jacket, tugging her hair from the confines of her jacket and took Rachel's hand. "Don't rely on it," she snarked.

Rachel could only smile bemusedly and tug Quinn down the steps from the patio. Quinn smiled in appreciation when Rachel opened the door to the passenger seat of her car and hopped in, buckling the seatbelt.

* * *

For an English teacher of in a high school, Skye's place was pretty suave. Quinn figured that Jemma probably contributed a huge part of it. She really couldn't keep her eyes off the crystalline figurine of a horse half leaping into the air, as if it was reaching for something, only to be suspended by plastic and its creator.

"Yeah, I love that one too," Rachel's voice traveled close to her ear.

Only then did she realize that Rachel had come up close behind her, her mouth incredibly close to Quinn's ear. She suppressed a shiver and sighed. Rachel chuckled.

"Jemma and Skye have been to many places," Rachel continued. She moved to Quinn's side, one arm loosely laced around Quinn's hips and one hand extended to carefully stroke the figurine, like it was the most fragile thing ever. "I admire them sometimes."

Quinn stared at her girlfriend's side profile. Rachel looked wistful, marginally saddened. Quinn's thoughts went back to Rachel's story: her glory in NYADA, only to be brought back to small town life by a clingy boyfriend who was stupid enough to shoot his own knee, and her descent from a Broadway star to a mere piano tutor. She wondered briefly if this time,  _she_  was the one keeping Rachel from flying out of her long since unlocked cage.

"You can be everywhere too, Rachel."

Rachel seeked out Quinn's gaze with her for-once unreadable one. Quinn desired to know everything that was going on in that pretty head of hers. "I  _am_  everywhere," Rachel finally responded with.

Quinn frowned, perplexed at that clearly incorrect response.

Rachel grinned gently and tipped Quinn's chin up with her fingers. "Knowing you, it's got me everywhere," Rachel whispered.

Jesus Christ, this woman was mind-boggling. Quinn was just standing there, staring at Rachel with saucer-sized eyes, not doing anything. She wasn't  _able_  to do anything. Rachel's words had driven her numb. She couldn't even blink. She wasn't even sure if she was  _breathing_. She tried to come up with words but her dictionary had suddenly vanished.

"Quinn?" the brunette prompted.

Quinn licked her lips and then released a helpless laugh. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "God, you're a nutter," she murmured.

"I'm a what?" Rachel said with incredulity.

"A nutter," Quinn repeated, nodding in affirmation. "You're crazy. It's like you're trying to get me to say yes when you haven't even proposed. And I am so close to begging you to propose to me already!"

Rachel's brown eyes twinkled with delight and mischief. Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "You are?"

"It's not fair!"

"What's not fair?" Jemma's British accent sounded from the doorway to the living room. She was standing there, leaning against the wall with a curious expression on her face.

Quinn pouted and pointed at Rachel who was still grinning. "Your best friend is evil," she decided.

Surprisingly – or probably not – Jemma only met her eyes with a serious look and nodded her head with much gravity. "Yes, I do know that, Quinn. It's a pity you've already fallen into her trap before you realize that." Jemma proceeded to shake her head, clicking her tongue with a pitiful expression. "But well, there are rare times when Rachel is tolerable."

Quinn feigned a contemplating look and then shook her head after only five seconds of 'thinking'. "I haven't gotten to see that side of her yet."

"She is standing right here," Rachel cut in, annoyed. "Really? My best friend and my girlfriend are teaming up against me?"

"Oh please." Quinn patted her cheek, moving away from her girlfriend to Jemma. "You must have seen it coming."

* * *

This was a weird seating arrangement. Imagine this, her girlfriend was seated with the woman she once had a crush on at the left side of the table while she was seated next to the girlfriend of the woman she had a crush on. Even she herself found it ridiculous as she said it in her head.

Skye wasn't helping things either. When she had announced dinner was ready, they trotted into the kitchen with Rachel pouting at the tail end. After asking why and knowing why, she promptly burst into hysterics, telling Rachel the same thing Quinn had said. And then somehow, they had settled down into their current seating arrangement.

"So Rachel," Skye started – Rachel fought a groan while Quinn had to stifle a smirk – "What are you gonna do next month?"

"What do you mean?"

"Quinn's going off to Yale next month, isn't she?" Skye looked at Quinn in inquiry. Quinn nodded, curious as to what Rachel's answer would be. Skye inclined her head, turning back to Rachel. "Jemma and I are going to be moving to New York in November, you know that. It's not like you have anything keeping you here."

Rachel didn't say anything for quite some time, which – honestly – scared Quinn. Yes, they did mention it, but they'd never  _talked_  about it. If Quinn was being truthful, she guessed she'd been actively avoiding the topic for quite some time.

"I'm not going to move to New Haven," Rachel answered surely. Quinn knew that. "I mean, it's not where I want to be, even though I do want to be wherever Quinn is, but New Haven is just…it won't do for me."

"Okay, then where?" Skye prompted.

Quinn looked down at her salmon, suddenly finding it very interesting.

"I talked to my dads about it. They're going to travel around the world so yeah, you're right. There isn't anything for me here." Quinn didn't know if Rachel was stalling on purpose but she almost exploded with impatience. "I called Kurt."

Who the hell was Kurt?"

"He found a loft for me in New York."

She looked up from the suddenly not-so-interesting salmon to Rachel who was smiling at her knowingly. Quinn blushed and looked away.

Rachel shrugged. "I mean, New York is only 81 miles away from New Haven, right?"

She could literally feel all of their gazes burning into the side of her face. She failed in stifling a smile and she nodded. "Yes, it is."

Skye chuckled and shook her head amusedly. "I'm surprised you're still in contact with Kurt," she said.

"Kurt is the only guy in NYADA who completely understood my fascination with Wicked. There is no way I'll lose contact with a precious jewel like him."

"He keeps pestering me to tell him who you're dating. You better tell him before I explode," Jemma complained.

"Who's Kurt?" Quinn asked.

Skye chortled, almost choking on her salmon. Jemma rolled her eyes, lamely patting her girlfriend's back while explaining, "Rachel's platonic soul mate. There's no need for you to be jealous, although there are times when you'll get very annoyed at them collectively."

"That's not at all disconcerting."

"Wasn't meant to be concerting."

Rachel scoffed. They kept up with small talk about whatnots for the rest of dinner. And then when it was time to wash the dishes, Jemma shot Skye a look and Skye instantly drag Rachel to do the dishes with her, leaving Quinn alone with the British woman. And Quinn knew that now was the time where she would be getting  _the talk_.

"How do you know her?" Quinn asked Jemma.

Jemma stared at her for a brief second before a reminiscing smile emerged on her face. She had a look like she was enjoying a particular memory. "In the bathroom in a subway station in New York City." Well, that was elaborate. "I was in a stall and when I came out, she was standing in front of the mirror, doing one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen anyone do."

"What was she doing?"

"Woman was rubbing  _glue stick_  on her forehead."

Quinn blinked. "What?"

"Glue stick. You know, the little cylindrical thing where there's glue in a tube in it and you can twist it to –"

"I know what it is!"

Jemma stopped and then nodded in confirmation at the incredulous look on her face. "Yes, Quinn, Rachel Berry was rubbing glue stick on her forehead."

"Jemma, stop spreading that story around!" Rachel shouted from the kitchen.

"Oh shut it and do the dishes!" Jemma shouted back and then looked back to Quinn. "I stared at her for quite some time, having no idea if I've encountered a lunatic in a subway bathroom – of all places. And then she looked at it through the reflection in the mirror and she had a pained expression on her face and I just had to ask her if she's alright. Turns out, she had a headache and she thought the glue stick was a HeadOn."

"You're kidding."

"Cross my heart and hope to die, Quinn," Jemma said with a very serious expression.

"Oh my god."

"And then I gave her a real HeadOn  _after_  assisting her in getting rid of the glue on her forehead, which, by the way, is very tasking. I don't recommend applying glue stick on forehead."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Good. So we just exchanged numbers after she promised me a drink and then it just went from there. It wasn't necessarily a date because we certainly weren't attracted to each other. And she had a dumb boyfriend back then so I know enough to not break up an admittedly horrible relationship."

After her recount of the story, Quinn was just staring at the empty kitchen doorway, slack-jawed.

"Rachel Berry is my best friend in the whole wide world." She turned back to Jemma. The woman was staring at her somberly. "And I know you love her very much. She loves you tremendously too."

"I can't promise I won't hurt her," Quinn admitted before Jemma could say it. Once she said it, Jemma looked positively displeased. "That's what relationships are all about. It's not a relationship if hurting is not an eventuality." Quinn then sighed. "But I will promise to try to not hurt her as much as she did in her previous marriage. I won't be as stubborn as forcing her to come back to Lima or poke holes in condoms even though we can't reproduce that way."

Jemma chuckled and nodded. "That's good enough for me. I've seen her hurt enough in her marriage with that doofus. I just want her to be happy. And she obviously is with you so I hope you won't disappoint us."

"I promise I won't."

* * *

It was nine o'clock when they finally left Skye's place. Quinn opted for the cliff because she didn't want to be apart from Rachel just yet. Rachel had agreed without much hesitation, setting a path for the cliff. When they reached the trail that led to the cliff, they trotted towards it, hand in hand as Rachel held a flashlight in her free hand.

They sat down at the cliff, their legs hanging off the edge, embraced in each other's arms.

"You're not moving to New York just because of me, right?" Quinn asked.

Rachel smiled. "You are, of course, one of the reasons I'm moving to New York." Quinn waited. "I miss Broadway a lot. I miss performing on stage. I miss singing my lungs out."

"You're gonna audition?"

"We'll see. Otherwise, I'll probably go from a piano coach to being a singing coach. Who knows?"

Quinn chuckled. "As long as you're not jobless."

"Oh I see how it is."

Quinn laughed and lifted her head, kissing Rachel on the lips tenderly. She pulled away to rest their forehead together. "I'm really glad I met you."

Rachel pecked her on the lips again. "I'm glad I met you too. So glad."

Quinn stared into Rachel's deep brown eyes, so enigmatic and yet so clear. The love blooming in her heart was explosive and implosive. This woman had done so much than bring her out of her self-erected shell; she had shown Quinn the true power of love.

Sure, love wasn't everything. But damn, it sure was  _something_.

Whenever she was with Rachel, she just felt like she could take over the world. She felt ageless. She felt like she could really be happy for the rest of her life.

"I love you, Rachel Berry," she whispered.

Rachel brushed her hair back and nodded. "I love you too."

And Quinn swore she could feel her grandmother's warm, parting caress on her skin, as if she was saying goodbye at last.

" _Lucy Quinn Fabray, always remember that I will always be here. Even when I'm gone, I'll be here. I'll be here to be your guidance even though you won't know it. I'll be here to watch you grow and find your way. And when I'm sure you've found your way, then I'll leave, because you won't need me anymore. But I'll_ _ **still**_ _be here."_


	26. Grammy's Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to popular demand, i've compiled a collection of grammy's quotes :)
> 
> i hope you all have someone like Quinn's grandmother in your life. everyone needs one. i don't have one, so i need to be my own grammy.
> 
> and there won't be an epilogue. the last chapter is how i want to end them. though i might write a couple of one-shots like i did with Sweet Vengeance but...who knows, right?
> 
> alright, ciao!

_Grammy's Wisdom_

" _Lucy Q, you are gonna be the most beautiful and talented pianist in the future. Just remember what Grammy always tell you: don't hear; feel."_

" _Lucy dear, play for the sake of playing. Because then and only then will you be able to feel the genuineness of music."_

_"Lucy, sweetheart, sometimes you have to not care about your parents or your tutor's opinions. Sometimes, you gotta stay in the room and just play. Ignore everything. Only the music. And you."_

" _Lucy sweetheart, I'm gonna be gone someday. And you're going to have to go through this journey by yourself. But I promise you, sweetheart, that one day, you'll find a person who will be your best friend and your lover and everything else. When you do, know that I will be so happy for you."_

_"Lucy sweetie, don't ever think that you'll do fine on your own. Make friends. Make best friends! Talk to them; laugh with them. Because when the time comes, they'll be the only ones there for you. Appreciate them. And you'll never have to live a lonely life."_

" _Lucy, my dear, take it slow. Take it one step at a time. Don't rush. You have all the time in the world."_

" _Lucy dear, be resilient. Be stubborn. Fight for what you believe is right. Don't ever give up. If you fall, take as long as you need to rest, as long as you get up and start over. You'll go miles someday."_

" _Lucy Quinn, do not ever be ashamed when you feel the opposite of brave. It's human nature. However, you have to stomp it down and make yourself brave. It's human nature too."_

" _Lucy my star, you are bright and you are young. It is not wrong for you to be rebellious and be mischievous once in awhile. Go out someday in your high school life and drink beer and make out and have protected sex. And then come home and tell me all about it. I may act scandalized, but I will know it is because you are young and you deserve to have fun."_

" _Luce honey, when a person is willing to risk themselves for you, it is worth it_."

" _Lucy dear, generations are different now. When you start going to school, you'll see things and you'll learn things and you'll do things. However, when in school, find a teacher: a teacher who can teach you and guide you and talk to you on issues excluded from the school syllabus. It'll do you a lot of good."_

" _Lucy my precious, keep in mind that your friends are important. Keep an eye out for the truest among them all. And never lose them. Never."_

" _Quinn my sweet, your middle name means 'to be wise'. Live up to your name, Quinn. Be wise. Think carefully and if you think it is deserving, do it."_

" _Lucy Quinn Fabray, now remember one thing: the truth_   **hurts** _. Oh, do they hurt. But remember another thing: it's no matter how much it hurts; the truth is always better than a lie."_

" _Lucy dearest, if you're not ready to do something –_   **anything** _– then don't do it. Don't let anyone pressure you into doing something you're not ready for. They're not worth it. But if there's someone who understand that you're not ready to do it, you_   **have**   _to keep them around. It's a rule."_

 _"Lucy sweetie, your father is your father. He wants what's best for you. Unless he's done something absolutely atrocious, you have to love him. And one day, when you're old enough and have enough sense, you can confront him, in a respectful way_   _though. Because confronting a person is a way to show them you love them."_

" _Lucy Q, as long you have someone at the end of the line waiting to catch you, you have nothing to worry about_."

" _Lucy Q, when you find a purpose in your life, and you know that it's_   **going** _to happen, you've practically scored a home run."_

_"Quinn, love is a powerful, powerful thing. When you're in love one day in the future, don't be afraid, because it is one of the best things in the world."_

" _It is irresponsible to just run away, Quinn, but sometimes, you just_   **have** _to. I will not blame you if you need to do it: run away, that is. If you need to run away and be alone and quiet, you can. Just as long as you understand that you_   **need**   _to come back."_

" _Lucy, do not let your nerves stop you from doing something that you want or_   **have**   _to do. You'll regret it sooner or later. The more nervous you are, the more you should do it."_

" _Luce my dear, things will get better eventually. You just have to_   **believe** _it. Or else, there really is nothing to live for._ "

" _Lucy Quinn, you can gauge a person's love for you by how much they're willing to do just to be with you. And if that person will settle for just a kiss or a touch, you need to_   **keep**   _them._ "

" _Lucy, you have a long life ahead of you. You must do whatever you have to, to be what you imagine your life to be. Or else, there is no meaning to it at all."_

" _Lucy Quinn Fabray, always remember that I will always be here. Even when I'm gone, I'll be here. I'll be here to be your guidance even though you won't know it. I'll be here to watch you grow and find your way. And when I'm sure you've found your way, then I'll leave, because you won't need me anymore. But I'll_   **still**   _be here."_


End file.
